


The Tangled Web

by miera



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:52:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard, a Warlord Prince of the Blood, finds his life entangled with an endangered Queen named Elizabeth Weir</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tangled Web

1.

John snapped awake, heart racing and temper soaring. He jumped up from the bed, prowling around the room for a moment, searching for the threat and finding nothing. He was alone on the farmstead his father had left him, as he had been for these last three years. No one was nearby, except his dog, Aiko, who was watching him pace curiously.

Another dream, then.

Since he'd made the Offering to the Darkness a year ago, he'd frequently been lost in vivid dreams at night. He tried to ignore them at first, thinking they were perhaps a result of his mind adjusting to the weight and power in the Gray Jewel he'd received. But the dreams didn't lessen with time. If anything, they had strengthened. Some nights they were full of anger and bloodshed leaving him gasping when he woke. Other nights he awoke out of breath for different reasons, his body hard and aching from dreams he couldn't remember as anything more than erotic whispers, vague memories of bodies entangled and stars gleaming around them.

And each night he felt the pull more and more, as though there were some place he needed to be, but the location was always lost as soon as he awoke.

He'd finally gone to the next village to see a Black Widow Priestess who resided there. His nervousness about Black Widows had been overcome by the fear that someone had put a compulsion spell on him for some reason. Even though he was a Warlord Prince, there were still moments when his guard was down, moments of weakness. Weak enough to have become ensnared in a tangled web.

But the Black Widow found no evidence of danger to him, or at least told him of no danger save a cryptic warning, _"Do not be too late."_

He growled again at the memory. What good was having the gift of dream weaving if you didn't share that knowledge in a useful way?

The last two nights the dreams had been much more intense. He saw flashes of trees and a shadowy path, and there had been the sound of wheels turning, the sound of a male voice which left him unsettled and edgy. All of it was jumbled, tiny pieces that didn't explain anything, but it was more than he'd ever been able to understand before.

Tonight, though...

Fear. No, _terror_. Female terror, strong enough to scrape his temper towards the killing edge. And again the sense that he desperately needed to be someplace.

John stilled, closing his eyes and opening his psychic senses. His control of the Gray power now at his disposal wasn't entirely stable yet, but he pushed outward from the farm house, widening the circle farther and farther.

When he was well past what used to be the limits of the Green Jewel, his birthright, he received another flash.

*HELP!*

Her desperation slammed into him, throwing John back into himself and knocking him off his feet.

Whoever she was, her fear drove his anger into rage. It cleared his mind, made the blood in his veins sing dangerously. Only a fool would tangle with a Warlord Prince who was nearing the killing edge.

He changed into his clothes, using his fury to hold on to that tenuous thread of connection long enough to mark the path it took. There was Green-Jeweled power behind it, and his birthright resonated along the pathway, making it easier to sense.

Dressed, he vaulted out of the second story window, using Craft to keep from hitting the ground too hard and breaking his legs. He ran until he could catch the Sapphire wind, the psychic paths through the Darkness the Blood used to travel. It would lead him straight to her.

***

John used his Gray strength to drop from the Winds as close as he could to where that faint Green trail ended. He called in the heavy bladed stick as he landed noiselessly in a forest. He searched the area, but found nothing. All was still.

Still and silent, he realized. Too silent. Even in the middle of the night, the forest should have echoed with small sounds of life and movement, but there was nothing. Fear settled coldly in his stomach as he remembered the Black Widow's warning. _Do not be too late_. He prayed to the Darkness and moved forward through the maze of trees, allowing instinct to guide him.

Had it not been for the silence of the forest, John doubted he would have heard the sound of the wheels creaking. It led him to a small stone building. A wagon was hitched outside it. The horse was moving restlessly, making the wheels rock.

Light burst from one of the upper windows as a shade was drawn back. John remained hidden in the trees as the male in the window looked down at the horse, and then swept his gaze about the tiny clearing.

The shade dropped again. John waited until his eyes readjusted, his stomach clenching. He was near enough now to feel the male – no two of them – in the building. A Sapphire shield had been raised around the structure, but John's mind slipped beneath it, recoiling at the psychic scent.

The males were tainted. The building wasn't – yet.

And he could feel her. Young, female, wearing a Green Jewel. She felt far away, even though he knew her body was within that upper chamber.

Drugged, he realized. Two tainted males, alone with a young woman who was drugged... the only possible reason confirmed his worst fears.

They were going to break her, rape her until her inner web was shattered and her mind hopelessly damaged.

Rage flooded him and John ceased to fight it, letting the anger focus his mind and sharpen his senses.

He approached the house, not bothering with a sight shield but wrapping a Gray shield around himself. John passed through the Sapphire shield and the door using his Gray power. He didn't want to alert the two inside by shattering the shield prematurely.

Everything felt strangely distant at the killing edge. Time moved differently. He didn't walk but glided, through the lower rooms and up the staircase. Midway up, he felt a spike of fresh horror break through the haze on her mind and he closed the gap on the stairs without thought and without touching another step.

John blew the door off its hinges as he entered the room. One brief glance told him all he needed to know. The female was tied to the bed, wrists and ankles bound. Her clothes had been torn apart, leaving her naked. One of the men was kneeling over her already.

Her blood was on the sheet between her thighs. It sang a vicious song to him and John roared in fury.

Two Warlords were there, one Opal-Jeweled and one wearing the Yellow. Neither was a match for an enraged Warlord Prince wearing the Gray.

His appearance was so unexpected neither of the males had time to shield themselves. John blasted Gray power at the Opal Warlord, tossing him off the girl and across the room with a sickening crunch. The bladed stick whistled through the air and cleaved the other male across the belly. John felt a flicker of Opal power reach for him, but the Gray shield absorbed it easily. He tugged the blade from the other body and reversed it, severing the Yellow Warlord's head. A flash of Gray and the man's mind was burned out, leaving nothing but a whisper in the Darkness. Then he turned his full attention to the other male.

The Warlord struggled to rise, disoriented from the first attack. John sent two more blasts of power, not enough to burn the man's mind out, but enough to cripple the body. The Warlord wriggled onto his back, gasping for air. John switched his grip and raised the blade high overhead, pointing directly at the Warlord before bringing it down. It pierced all the way through the skull, pinning the Warlord to the wooden floor below. John channeled his strength through the blade and the Warlord's inner web was turned to dust.

John had no way of telling how long he stood there after finishing the kill. Each breath felt like an hour. Slowly he managed to back away from the killing edge, now that the danger was past. When he finally was in control of himself, he turned to the female. The sight of her nearly sent him spiraling into fury again.

A Queen. Mother Night, they had been going to break a Green-Jeweled Queen. She was young, not yet at her full strength, and her psychic scent clearly told him she was a virgin. But she wasn't broken yet, thank the Darkness. It was moon's blood between her legs.

Even a powerful witch was vulnerable during moon times. During the first three days, witches couldn't channel their jeweled strength through their bodies without great pain. A Green-Jeweled Queen ordinarily could have easily held off two lesser-jeweled males, but they had waited to strike while she was dangerously weak. She was trying to fight off the drugs that had been given to her, and he winced at the pain she was feeling, trying to push her power through her body right now. Then their eyes met and John gasped.

Her eyes were green, but lighter than his own. Brown hair curled around her face, the high cheekbones and delicate curve of her jaw more pronounced given the strain on her body.

He'd seen her before. That face had been in the dreams, but upon awakening he hadn't remembered it clearly. Only the shadow and shape had stayed with him. How many nights had he wondered who exactly she was, why she was so constantly in his thoughts?

Three days. A witch was vulnerable during the first three days of moon time. The dreams had intensified the last two nights. He'd known, somehow, that she was in danger. Do not be too late, the Black Widow had told him. John swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He nearly had been. If he had waited any longer, if he hadn't heard that cry for help...

He pulled a small hunting knife from a hidden sheath at his back. Her eyes widened with renewed fear as he approached her and John fought a nasty internal battle to contain his anger as her fear pricked at his instincts to protect. He could hardly protect her from himself. He cut the ropes holding her ankles and wrists, keeping his eyes away from the lithe young body stretched out on the bed. She tugged the remnants of her nightgown over herself as soon as she could.

He crouched down as she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She rubbed her temple with one hand, still struggling to clear her mind. "Are you all right?" His voice was low and rough with the aftermath of the blood rage.

She looked from him to the bodies on the floor, then down at her shaking limbs. "No."

John held one hand out, allowing her to choose whether to touch him or not. As soon as she placed her fingers against his, he reached out along a psychic thread, offering his strength. After another hesitation, she accepted it. The last of the grogginess faded from her eyes as she drew on his power to burn off the drugs.

She would have released his hand but John was reluctant to let go. Something deep within him craved her touch against his skin, and he was disturbed enough about the events of the night to want the comfort of contact.

He looked up at her uncertain face, folding his other hand over hers. "You will be."

***

John felt the male anger bubbling over as it approached the small stone building. He was waiting outside, idly stroking the horse and keeping watch when he felt the three male minds drop from the Winds nearby.

He wondered where that anger had been when Elizabeth had been drugged and taken from her bed.

The Lady - Elizabeth Weir, as she'd introduced herself - was still inside. Once John had broken the Sapphire shield around the building, she had sent out a summons to someone, and then called in some clean clothes. He'd retreated discreetly to allow her to change.

Three males stepped into the clearing. John blinked. He had expected Elizabeth to be calling for help from her older male relatives, but these three were all his age. Two Warlords, one wearing the Opal, the other Summer-sky Jewels.

The other man, who fixated immediately on John, wore a Sapphire Jewel. He was a Warlord Prince.

John's heart raced. The two men who'd kidnapped Elizabeth had worn lighter jewels, but the spell protecting them had been Sapphire. Meaning whoever had given it to them had worn that rank.

The Warlord Prince advanced towards John, cold fury pouring off him, and John responded in kind, temper rising to meet the challenge of another Warlord Prince. Viciously territorial and difficult to control, Warlord Princes were violent by nature. Given the events of the night, John knew his emotional control was even weaker than usual, and he could not stop the instincts being roused by the presence of the other man.

He was about to call in his blade and give this stranger the battle he was seeking when a soft voice cut through the night.

"Evan."

Elizabeth stood at the top of the steps, dressed in a heavy tunic and loose trousers. The Warlord Prince stood still and continued to glare at John for a long moment. John could feel the conversation passing between them along a Green psychic thread, though he didn't listen. At length, Evan pulled himself away and looked at his young Queen.

John heard the small sigh of relief from the two Warlords. The taller of them moved towards Elizabeth. "Do you need a Healer?"

She shook her head, taking the arm he offered her with a little smile. "I'm not hurt. Other than the headache."

"Do you know who-" the other Warlord asked. He must have received his answer from the Queen, for he paled several shades. "You can't go back there, Elizabeth."

"I don't have a choice, Rodney," she replied, her expression cooling off.

But Evan, the Warlord Prince who was still standing so as to keep himself between Elizabeth and John, took Rodney's side. "He's right. It's too dangerous."

Her anger flashed, the Green Jewel flickering with contained power. "It is my home. Where else can I go?"

The third man spoke more calmly, clearly trying to avoid provoking her temper further. "Until you make the Offering, Elizabeth. We need to get you someplace safe, until you can make the Offering. If you go back now, after this..."

"Nowhere in Atlantis is safe, or will be until the Council is gone," Elizabeth answered. John flinched at the bitterness in her voice while tamping down his surprise. He was in Atlantis, in the Pegasus territory? He'd had no idea he'd traveled so far from home. He hadn't been into Pegasus for years, although he'd been born there.

"And the Council can't be removed until you make the Offering and set up your court," Rodney shot back. "There must be some place we can take you they can't find you. One of the other provinces."

Something cold crawled up John's back at the word "they." A few years ago, the province Queen of Atlantis had been killed suddenly. An all-male council had taken over instead of a new Queen being chosen.

"The Queens there are too afraid of the Council to go against them so directly," the other man said.

"But if the Lady tells them what happened tonight-" Evan countered.

"They wear the darkest jewels in the province," Elizabeth said too softly. "And they have many allies. There is no place they can't find me, not here."

What in hell was going on in Atlantis? How could a Queen be so at risk in her own home? And from who? Why was her family not looking after her?

Her eyes turned to him as if she had heard his questions and John felt her mind touch his gently. He opened the first inner barrier carefully, and saw her thoughts.

Two men, a Sapphire and a Red, Prince and Warlord Prince. One was doughy, his face and body bloated with excess. The other was rail-sharp and dead-eyed. They were responsible for this, for what had nearly happened to her. The heads of the male Council, he could feel along their connection that Elizabeth was right. No place in Pegasus was safe for her.

She withdrew and he closed his mind and opened his mouth. "The Lady can come with me." Frozen silence and male hostility greeted the statement. "My home is just over the border in Cheyenne territory."

The Warlord Prince shifted on his feet, clearly not happy, but Rodney snapped his fingers. "And you wear the Gray. That far away and with that kind of strength shielding her, Elizabeth might go undetected long enough to make the Offering."

It was the other man who spoke what John was sure they were all thinking. "You'll not go alone, Elizabeth. I mean no disrespect, Prince," he said to John. "We're all grateful for the service you rendered Elizabeth tonight, but I for one will not allow her to vanish with you to the Darkness knows where." There was steel in the voice, even though this man wore the lightest jewels of anyone present.

"He's right," Evan said with some relief. "We should go with you."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. Rodney will go with me. Carson will remain here to learn what the Council is up to." She turned to Evan, whom John could already feel spiraling towards the killing edge again. "You will go into hiding. Kolya will think you have taken me with you."

"No." The word came out as a growl. Rodney and Carson took an involuntary step backwards as John's own spine tingled at the barely contained rage in the other man's voice. "No, Elizabeth. My duty is to protect you and I nearly failed you tonight. I won't let that happen again."

She reached for him but Evan turned away, waving towards the house. "You understand what nearly happened to you here? You were so drugged you couldn't call for my help! I didn't even know you were missing until..." He stopped his tirade short at the way Elizabeth went pale.

Blood leaked down from where Evan bit his lip tightly. John felt Evan's anger turning from the Queen to himself, seeking a target that would give him the fight he desperately wanted. "I won't allow you to go off with some stranger, especially one whose jewels are dark enough that he could conceal you from us forever."

John knew why Evan was turning on him this way, but the accusation hung in the air and his own temper began to rise in response. "If it wasn't for me, your Queen would be nothing but an empty shell by now. How dare you suggest-"

"PRINCES." Her voice was like thunder and a cold wind gusted through the clearing as Elizabeth stepped forward. Her anger knocked John off-balance, recoiling automatically at his Queen's displeasure.

He stopped short. She wasn't his Queen. He served Lady Samantha, Queen of Cheyenne territory, as his father had served before him.

Elizabeth got her hand on Evan's arm and again, things passed between them silently that John did not hear. He concentrated on composing himself. The other Warlord Prince was clearly not reconciled to the situation, but he was abiding by his Queen's decision. He stepped away and gestured to Carson. "We'll fetch your things from your rooms and bring them back here."

John felt some of the tension leave Elizabeth. She walked wearily back towards the house as the two men left. She looked up at the upper windows and then abruptly turned around and sat down on the outer steps.

Rodney followed, sitting down next to her and after a moment of coaxing, Elizabeth leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

John settled himself at the bottom of the stairs, arms resting on his knees. For her deception to work, he would need to cleanse the building of the sense of Gray power, but he wanted to gather his strength first.

Rodney had an arm around Elizabeth, holding her carefully. He looked at John. "I didn't catch your name."

"John Sheppard."

"Rodney McKay."

*~*~*~*  
2

 

The small farm John had inherited from his parents lay on the outskirts of the village of Glen Eyrie, which was along the border between the Cheyenne and Pegasus territories. John's father had been a Warlord who had served the previous territory Queen of Cheyenne in one of the Goa'uld Wars. When it ended, he and his Lady had wanted nothing more than a quiet place to raise a family. The house was modest but comfortable, the light stone warmed by the sun in the day now that spring had truly arrived.

The first two days after John brought her to his home, Elizabeth rested, recuperating from the kidnapping. He didn't see much of her or Rodney. Since she was tucked in bed in the extra room it wasn't difficult to keep her hidden. He strengthened the Gray shields around the house and worked the farm as usual, but nothing had changed.

On the third evening, he came in to find her in the kitchen with Rodney. She looked better, he instantly noticed. Her face and figure were fuller, no longer gaunt and stretched by the drain on her strength. But there was a brittleness underneath the surface, and her eyes still looked haunted.

After bringing her here, John had fallen into a heavy, dreamless sleep for the first night in months. Spending the next day out on the land had helped rid him of the lingering sense of uncleanness from the entire encounter. He still couldn't believe any males were so foolish as to try and deliberately break a dark-jeweled Queen. The damage to the Blood when a strong Queen was destroyed... no one in their right mind would do such a thing.

Everyone knew that the province Queen of Atlantis had died, along with her consort, five years ago. Rumors swirled that it had been no accident but an assassination, planned by the men now in control of the province. For instead of selecting a new Queen, an all-male council had been established. That much John remembered, though 16 year old boys weren't known for their keen interest in politics. What had happened in Atlantis in the interim, John intended to find out, but he put the questions aside until Elizabeth regained her strength enough to answer them.

Instead he concentrated on the duty owed under Protocol by any Blood male to a Queen, to protect and defend that female strength that called to the Blood like a siren's song. Whatever was occurring in Atlantis, John would not allow it to destroy Elizabeth.

Walking into the kitchen, John's awareness was filled with her psychic scent, the way it had begun to sink into the walls of the house. It felt strange. Not just because of Elizabeth herself, but he had lived here alone since his father had died when John was only 17. He preferred the solitary existence and companionship of the open land to the noise of the city and the intrigues of the Cheyenne court.

Though there were frequent moments when John considered shutting the farm up and leaving. He would feel a restlessness, an itching under the skin. It was something like the compulsion from his dreams, but less unnerving.

When John had been a small boy, he'd had a tendency to wander away from the farm and explore the foothills of the mountains. Despite his parents telling him repeatedly not to go too far and to be home for evening meal, one night when he could have been no more than seven, he'd forgotten or gotten lost and hadn't returned home in time. His father found him straggling back towards the house when it was nearly dark. He looked John over once to make sure he wasn't hurt and then muttered something about his mother's temper.

John hadn't understood until he arrived in the kitchen, where his mother was sitting at the table. Her hands were folded and she just stared at him. His legs had started to shake.

His father's anger had been unpleasant but expected, and John knew eventually his father would ask about his adventures.

But his mother... her anger was fierce but the disappointment coming off her in waves was agony. John vividly recalled standing in the kitchen, shivering, trying not to let the tears fall. He couldn't bear the way she was looking at him.

Finally, she turned and held out one hand. John had practically thrown himself into her arms, crying and promising he wouldn't disobey her again. Only then had that cold anger melted and he felt how frightened she had been for him.

After that, John understood why it was the Blood females who were the center of their lives. The deep power they held required respect and careful handling. Male tempers were quick to spark and just as quick to cool off, but the females were a hundred times more dangerous when roused.

His mother had been gone several years, and while John was content with his service in the Cheyenne court, he had not felt this kind of pull towards a woman in years. Having Elizabeth and Rodney in the house should have been unsettling, as he'd gotten so used to living alone, but it felt strangely comforting to find them waiting for him.

The three of them ate dinner – Rodney, it turned out, was a passable cook – speaking quietly of simple things. Aiko sat patiently near the table, a hopeful look on her face. Elizabeth asked about Cheyenne territory, about the village of Glen Eyrie. They stayed on safe subjects for the meal, but when it was over, Elizabeth asked John to show her the farmstead.

Rodney tensed. "It's not safe."

Elizabeth looked at him coolly. She had been cooped up in the house for two days, and John could understand her desire to go outside, to be with the land even for a few minutes. But part of him agreed with Rodney.

"It's almost dark out," she said.

Rodney folded his arms across his chest. "Someone could still see you."

Elizabeth glared, but before it could escalate into a larger argument, John sighed and dropped a Gray sight shield over Elizabeth. She turned to him, looking surprised and a little piqued, but Rodney gave a satisfied nod and turned towards the dishes. John bit down on a smile and opened the back door politely for her.

The sun was nearly down, leaving the farmstead in long shadows. They walked to a small grove of trees that marked the western edge of the main field. Elizabeth reached out, placing her palms against the bark of a young sapling. He could feel the joy radiating from her as she touched the living tree and drew on the strength of the open land.

Then she turned and pinned him with a look. "How did you know?"

For two days he'd been wondering what to say when she asked this, and he still had nothing better than the truth.

"I had a dream about you."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and John felt his ears turn pink.

"I've been dreaming for months about something, some event, and always woke with a sense of needing to be some place. Four nights ago, the dreams intensified." He swallowed hard. "And the last night I woke up and heard you. You were calling for help."

Elizabeth had turned paler as she listened to his rather incredible tale. "You heard that?"

He nodded.

She leaned back against the tree, her hands folded behind her. "When I realized I'd been drugged, I tried to call for Evan and the others. I didn't believe anyone heard me."

They hadn't, of course. John had.

She stared at him. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. How he had heard a cry for help from the other side of the territory, when the males who served her already and were much closer didn't was something he couldn't explain.

"Mother Night," Elizabeth said softly.

Too many questions were racing through his head. Before he could settle on which to ask first, Elizabeth suddenly stiffened.

"When did you say the dreams started?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Nearly a year ago. Not long after I made the Offering." Cold anger settled over her face and John winced. "Lady?"

Her voice sounded like a winter gale. "My mother was killed nearly a year ago. Afterwards the council awarded guardianship to Lucius."

John saw a flash of the corpulent man from her mind. That was her guardian? That foul-scented behemoth? And what had happened to her mother?

He wasn't aware of broadcasting the thought, but she answered anyway, that horrible chill deepening around them. "She was a Sapphire-Jeweled Black Widow. I don't know what exactly happened, only that she faded into Darkness."

A full death, then, leaving nothing behind in the body which could answer the questions of how and why.

John had been a boy still when an accident had injured his own mother beyond the Healer's ability to fix. He remembered her holding him tightly, telling him to be brave and honor the code of the Blood she had taught him.

His father had never recovered. Over the next several years John had watched his father slowly fade until his will to live was gone, leaving John here alone.

Elizabeth was watching him intently, and John wondered uneasily if she was picking up more than he was aware of sending. Living alone for so long, he'd gotten used to not shielding his thoughts or emotions. "I'm sorry," she said with genuine sympathy.

"So am I."

The sun was now gone, and above them stars were twinkling in the spring evening. Now that the cold anger had receded, Elizabeth looked more like the young girl he'd first met than the Queen. She glanced at him hesitantly. "I did not thank you yet."

"It's not necessary. I'm just grateful I reached you in time."

She shuddered, and the instinctive need to protect made John want nothing more than to hold her, to offer the comfort and reassurance she needed. But there was no formal relationship between them, and he didn't know how she would react to a strange male touching her just now, much less a full embrace. He settled for resting a hand on her shoulder gently, leaving her room to pull away if she didn't welcome him.

Elizabeth reached up and grasped his fingers. He could clearly sense her fear, but it wasn't directed at him. She trusted him. His blood warmed at her acceptance and he fought back the urge to reach for her, the ingrained longing of a Warlord Prince towards a dark-Jeweled Queen capable of handling his strength.

"You will be safe, here, Elizabeth. I swear by the Jewels, I will keep you safe until you can return home."

Her gratitude flowed through the point of contact, and John felt that soft psychic touch down to his bones, followed by something else. Something much more than the sense of connection between a Blood male and a Queen he wished to serve.

As carefully as he could, he pulled his hand away. "You should go inside." Force of will kept his voice steady.

Thank the Darkness, she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice the battle inside of him. Elizabeth walked back towards the house and John slumped against a tree, watching her go.

His blood sang and heated every part of him as he watched the sway of her hips and the way her hair floated over her shoulders as she went back into his house. His fingers dug into the bark of the tree as he tried to contain the fire that swept through him so that she wouldn't sense it.

He'd sworn his honor to defend her from any danger, and that included himself.

A Queen, whose pull on him was so strong it passed through what should have been the normal boundaries of Craft and Jewel strength.

A woman whose face had filled his fantasies and dreams for a year.

A young, vulnerable witch, whom he'd taken under his protection.

But he wanted her.

John remained out in the night for a long while after Elizabeth went inside.

***

John finally entered the house after midnight and wearily made his way towards his room. He stopped dead in the hallway. Aiko was standing before one of the doors, whining nervously.

Elizabeth was afraid.

Not thinking, he burst through the door to the guest bedroom and froze.

She was asleep in the bed, but the room was filled with a vicious psychic storm. Her Green power whipped a cold wind through the small space. Even when John surrounded himself with a Gray shield, the terror and anguish coming off of her made him shudder. His temper spiked dangerously with the need to protect her, but there was nothing endangering her now but her own memories.

Rodney was bent over the bed, holding Elizabeth by the shoulders and trying to wake her up. She was fighting against him mindlessly, too lost in the nightmares to recognize him. She lashed out defensively and Rodney reeled backwards. The Opal shield he raised around himself helped dissipate some of the power but not all of it, and John could see the Warlord was already weakened from the storm surrounding them both.

John fought his way through the invisible knives lancing through the room and reached the bed. "Elizabeth!" He didn't dare grab her. If she unleashed her full strength against him out of fear, the backlash could seriously injure her. Instead he seized her hand tightly. *ELIZABETH!*

Her protective barriers were shaky and John entered her mind within the psychic plane without intending to do so. He caught himself before he could trespass deeply, but he saw enough.

She was reliving the assault. He could feel it through their connection – his limbs felt heavy and his mind clouded. He tried to call for help but there was nothing there. Hands pinned him down and then a male face, watching with cold eyes-

John was thrown out of Elizabeth's mind with a furious roar. The psychic storm in the room faded. She bolted upright in the bed, eyes open and flashing with dangerous fire. But she wasn't awake, he realized. She was standing on the precipice of the dreamscape, dangerously close to the Twisted Kingdom, and madness.

*Elizabeth.* He wrapped the word in all the warmth he could, sending the silent message of safety and comfort with it.

The cold anger receded from her face. *John?*

He looked down. Her nails were digging into the skin on his hand. His blood welled up, but thankfully the wounds weren't deep. Elizabeth gasped and pulled her fingers away. John felt her mind recoiling from his in horror, and his fear jumped another notch.

*Can you heal it, Lady?* he asked formally.

It was difficult to perform Craft from the dreamscape, but not impossible. Elizabeth's blood-stained fingers reached out and brushed over the wounds, sealing the flesh and stopping the bleeding. It was a small act, but it helped ground her in reality.

*You should rest now.*

*Rest? Yes, rest.*

She curled up against the pillows. John covered her with the blankets and waited until her breathing evened out. He placed a warming spell on the bed linens and hauled himself to his feet.

Rodney was shaking and pale, his eyes barely open. John heaved the Warlord to his feet and supported him downstairs. He fed the small fire, wrapped Rodney in a spell-warmed blanket and set about making a basic healing brew.

It took time for the color to come back to his face. Finally the blue eyes cleared and Rodney blinked and pushed away the mug. "That stuff tastes awful."

John pouted a little. "It's not that bad." Rodney rolled his eyes and John shrugged. "Mixing healing brews isn't my specialty."

Rodney glanced at the ceiling. John let him satisfy himself that Elizabeth was sound asleep. "The dreams lanced the soul-wound," he observed quietly.

John nodded, calling in the bottle of brandy from the other room. The nightmare Elizabeth hadn't been confronting while awake had been addressed by her mind when she couldn't control it, but that was better than her running farther and farther away. "She should start to heal now." He drained the glass, then refilled it and drained it again.

He wasn't all that surprised when Rodney took the glass from him and poured himself a healthy sized portion of the alcohol and drank half of it.

John leaned his elbows on his knees. "I saw the man who did this, in her mind." Rodney whipped his head up and fixed John with a dangerous glare. John held up his hands. "I didn't invade her mind, McKay. She wasn't exactly able to conceal anything from the Gray in the middle of a psychic storm."

Rodney relaxed marginally. John reached out on an Opal spear thread, projecting the image of the man Elizabeth had seen. Fury lashed back along the Opal, mixed with revulsion and a profound hate, followed by a single word. *Kolya.*

Rodney downed the rest of the brandy and snorted. "It figures. I knew Lucius was too much of a coward to have arranged for that on his own. He's too frightened of his own shadow to do such a thing without being prodded."

"He's a Sapphire-Jeweled Prince," John said, confused. "What's he afraid of?"

Rodney's smile turned positively malevolent. "Lorne. A fat, lazy aristo whose most dangerous battle was with a bouncer at a Red Moon House wouldn't stand a chance against a Warlord Prince trained as a guard."

"Not without help."

Rodney's face darkened, and John pretended not to hear the string of curses Rodney was aiming at Kolya. He had quite a way with words.

"Lucius is her guardian?"

Rodney nodded, slumping back in the chair. "For another few weeks. Elizabeth's 20th birthday is next month. Which is why they resorted to the kidnapping. They're out of time."

John blinked. His own 21st birthday was approaching as well. He turned to the question that had been nagging him ever since his mind had connected with Elizabeth's earlier. "Why didn't they appoint Kolya as her guardian instead?"

Rodney shrugged. "No one knows. I think they knew that Elizabeth would have bolted immediately from Kolya's grasp, or that Lorne and the rest of us would have taken her away. Restrained if necessary. Lucius is... less obviously threatening."

"But still dangerous," John pointed out.

Rodney looked at him with the eyes of a man who had serious battle-fatigue. "Yes. Still very dangerous, and he somehow weaseled his way into leading the Council, which means he can manipulate circumstances in Atlantis however he wants." John waited expectantly and Rodney, after a pause, continued.

"Lucius has been doing his best to warp her mind. For the last year he's been feeding her ridiculous tales about how even strong Queens need to rely on the advice of the Jeweled males around them. That Blood females are unbalanced by the power they hold, so they need males to guide them. He's scolded her, humiliated her, locked her away as punishment." Rodney offered a humorless smile. "Of course, Lucius doesn't know much about sight shields. He certainly can't manage his Craft well enough to maintain one while passing through a solid object."

John wondered exactly who had been slipping into Elizabeth's rooms unseen, and for what purpose. He crushed the spark of jealousy ruthlessly.

Rodney picked up the glass from the table again, toying with it restlessly. "They've been doing everything they could to break her spirit." John's temper began to slip. Rodney must have picked up on it, because he added quickly. "Not a physical breaking, but blunting every natural instinct she has. I think in the last few weeks, Kolya finally realized it was too late, that she wouldn't allow them to use her as their puppet. And time is running out."

"Because of her birthday?" At the age of 20, a person was considered an adult under the law. Elizabeth would no longer need a guardian.

Rodney nodded, but John sensed there was something else. He stayed silent. Finally Rodney said in a low voice, "She's ready to make the Offering, but her mother told all of us, repeatedly, that she had to have her Virgin Night first."

Elizabeth's mother had been a Sapphire-Jeweled Black Widow. John didn't doubt her warnings had been taken with utmost seriousness by both her daughter and the male triangle around her.

"So he tried to destroy her," John finished.

Rodney shook his head, and his expression was dark enough to make John shiver. "No, he tried to kill her."

The last missing piece clicked into place in John's head. Kolya and Lucius wanted a puppet Queen to use for their own ends. Realizing Elizabeth would not bend to their will, the logical response was to kill her. If the rumors were true, they'd already murdered a Province Queen, so the murder of one young witch shouldn't have posed an obstacle.

Which meant the men who had tried to rape Elizabeth had done so for pleasure. As payment for their services.

He got up from the table, needing to pace the room as his fury bubbled just under the surface. He'd killed them too quickly. Those bastards hadn't suffered nearly enough for what they had intended to do to Elizabeth. And oh, how he wanted to meet Kolya and Lucius on a killing field. He would savor the feeling of his blade cutting through flesh like soft butter. They dared threaten the life of a Queen? They would discover what it meant to feel the anger of a Warlord Prince.

Rodney was watching him. John snarled, because the expression on the other man's face wasn't the nervous look a man should have when faced with the growing volatility of a Warlord Prince. In fact, it was a look of smug amusement. "What?" he asked too softly.

"Do you serve, Prince?"

He should deny it, because he'd sworn himself to Lady Samantha, and Protocol dictated John couldn't serve anyone else until he resigned from the Cheyenne court. But Rodney was too close and could see too much. Protocol was a formality that would need to be dealt with, and nothing more.

John went to the window, but Rodney's next words stopped him cold.

"It's more than that, isn't it?"

Torn between anger and discomfort, John didn't move until Rodney came and stood next to him. It didn't escape John's notice that a fast lunge would have his hand around a soft and vulnerable throat before anything could be done. But the other man's gaze was shrewd rather than openly hostile.

"You saved her from being broken, from being forced, Sheppard. I'm trusting that you won't change your mind about that."

John growled at the insinuation, shoving forward until he and Rodney were face to face. But Rodney's eyes looked back at him clearly. John had the greater strength, but Rodney would do whatever he had to do to ensure Elizabeth's safety.

And Rodney already served her. John had given Elizabeth his word, but Rodney served. Protocol required that John honor that relationship.

Still tense, still craving a fight, John stepped back. Rodney gave him a weary nod, abruptly turning back into the man John had been used to seeing, before climbing the stairs to go to sleep.

 

*~*~*~*  
3

The next two weeks passed quietly. Elizabeth remained in the house or in the small garden behind it, shielded from the road. Since the night of the psychic storm, she seemed more stable and secure. John sensed that she was still having nightmares, but none of them had reached the intensity of that first one.

Her natural affinity with animals was plain, and she insisted on helping to care for the cows and chickens and other livestock. Rodney stayed near her, read through John's entire library of books within the first few days, and drove both Elizabeth and John crazy with restlessness and his incessant talking. Though when John finally snapped and took Rodney into the fields with him solely to give Elizabeth some peace, Rodney had begun making adjustments to John's irrigation systems that provided a great deal more control over the water levels.

John asked discreet questions about Atlantis when he ventured into the village and heard more than he liked. Since the Council had come to power, they had been unable to find a district Queen willing to serve as their figurehead, and the province had fractured as tension between the district Queens and the Council mounted. And there were other rumors from Pegasus, about young, powerful witches dying mysteriously, powerful males murdered or disappearing with no trace. Whispers of something ugly and dark, all of it centered around Atlantis.

And hopeful stories of a young Queen, not yet at her majority, but with the strength to turn back the taint spreading through the province. Many of the people in Pegasus, it appeared, were resting their hopes on this young witch, even while they feared the worst.

He didn't speak to Elizabeth or Rodney about any of the things he heard, but the weight of the truth dogged him. This went beyond his personal feelings about Elizabeth or even his duty to a single Queen. The fate of an entire territory could well be hanging in the balance.

John was summoned to Colorado Springs at the end of the second week. The Queen of Cheyenne Territory was hosting a ball in honor of a visiting Queen, and John was summoned to attend the festivities. He disliked formal parties, but this would fulfill his service requirement for another four months. By then, Elizabeth would have made the Offering.

Or at least, he prayed it would be so. The longer she remained, the harder it would be to conceal her presence, and the more difficult it would be to hold on to his self-control. He struggled each evening as he sat around the table with her and Rodney, the three of them talking easily with one another. It was already difficult to keep his eyes from lingering on her more than they should. He had imprinted the outline of her face on his memory already, and more than one night in the last two weeks he'd lain awake in his bed, consumed by hunger that had no hope of being filled.

Rodney watched him warily but kept quiet. John understood. As long as John wasn't a threat, Rodney would do nothing. Not that there was much an Opal-Jeweled Warlord could do against a Gray-Jeweled Warlord Prince, but John had seen enough of Rodney to know that in order to protect his Queen, Rodney would take that risk regardless of the consequences. And Rodney knew that John would regret the killing if it happened, and would want to avoid it, both for Elizabeth's sake and Rodney's.

John had no intention of provoking Rodney in any case, and he found himself admiring the loyalty and strength that lay beneath the chattering exterior.

And Rodney was just as busy watching Elizabeth. Both of them were waiting for her to make a decision. Every day made her staying a greater risk, but John knew neither of them was going to ask whether she was ready for her Virgin Night, especially not so soon after the attempted rape. Elizabeth would have to broach that subject in her own time. But until she did, she couldn't make the Offering, and all three of them were caught on the precipice until Elizabeth felt she was ready.

In the meantime, John prayed it was not his imagination that she was opening up to him more as the days passed. She had even started to flirt with him lightly, but he couldn't tell how much of it was intended and how much was simply a young woman testing the waters of adulthood. John flirted back, aware of Rodney's watchful gaze and the risk of frightening her if he responded too forcefully.

John did his duty at the ball, dancing with the various Queens and ladies of the court, listening appropriately to their mindless, incessant talk. He ignored the way some of them fondled his arm and he politely refused the clearly issued invitations being sent either aloud or along psychic threads. As soon as he could, he retreated, using the aura that surrounded all Warlord Princes to his advantage, keeping himself aloof from most of the crowd. A young Warlord Prince, still settling into his jewel strength, would need to keep a tight leash on his emotions or risk an incident.

And he feared if he endured one more clinging female touching him, he might explode. It wasn't even that the women were abusing the situation. He was, so far as they knew, an unattached male, making him fair game for any who dared to try. There was nothing untoward in their advances. But John knew that his interest had been fixed elsewhere, and a Warlord Prince who had staked a claim to a female had little tolerance for any other woman.

Still, incompetent flirting was no reason for his temper to be unleashed.

He escaped late in the night, hastily bidding Lady Samantha farewell and leaving with as much speed as his dignity would allow, before one of her First Circle had a chance to ask him what was wrong with him.

He poured himself a glass of brandy when he reached home, tossing it back and welcoming the burn down his throat. His Gray Jewel would use the alcohol up before it could have real effect in any case. He started to go up the stairs and paused.

Elizabeth was standing above him in the moonlight. Wearing the thin nightgown that hid almost nothing of her body under a light robe, she looked at him in the dim light, her eyes wide and dark. *John?*

*Yes, it's just me.*

She relaxed as he came up the stairs until he was on the step below her. "How was the ball?" she whispered.

He shrugged, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. "The same as every formal ball I've ever been to. The same people, same food, same music, same gossip." He kept his voice low as well, sensing that Rodney was sound asleep in the other room.

Elizabeth grinned. "The same ladies batting their eyes coquettishly at the young and handsome Warlord Prince?"

He groaned theatrically, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. "Sometimes I wish I was already old, with a huge belly and my hair long gone."

Her soft laughter warmed him, but his eyes came open when he felt her fingers brush against the hair at his temple. It was an innocent touch, a gesture by a Queen intended to soothe the distress of one of her males, even though technically John wasn't in her service. Yet.

John's mouth went dry and for a long moment he was frozen, resisting the tremendous urge to wrap his arms around Elizabeth and pull her close. He wanted to bury his face in the soft skin of her neck, drink in the scent of her, rub his body against hers until he couldn't sense or smell any woman but her.

He'd been told that Warlord Princes in particular, when they chose a Queen, would crave physical contact with the lady. That was why Elizabeth had touched Evan during their argument; skin to skin contact could do what words wouldn't. John had never felt that longing, not even for Lady Samantha, though he served her.

This went beyond the desire to serve, though. It was an almost a physical need to touch Elizabeth, to feel all that lovely pale skin against his. To taste her lips, take her mouth in a fierce kiss, wrap himself around her, body, mind and jewels.

To take her to bed and watch as he coaxed her to orgasm over and over, and then find his own release in her body until they were both utterly sated.

His blood heated with desire that he clamped down viciously. She was a guest in his home, a vulnerable Queen under the protection of a Warlord Prince. It was his responsibility to protect her from any danger, including the uninvited attentions of any male. Even himself.

John bit his tongue, the pain grounding him, backing him away from losing control.

Elizabeth stared at him uncertainly. His swift change in moods could hardly have escaped her notice. Even wearing only the Green, Elizabeth had proved more than once that she was fairly well attuned to him. "John?"

His temper had been pushed too much during this night and he snapped at her before he could even think. "You should go to bed, Lady."

Elizabeth jerked away at the harsh tone of his voice. He saw the hurt and confusion on her face, but he didn't trust himself to speak again. After a moment, she turned away. He felt the cold anger emanating from her like a physical blow, but he didn't stop her retreat. When she was safely behind a closed door, he buried his face in his hands.

She was too young. She had yet to have her Virgin Night, and even afterwards there was no guarantee that she would be ready for a steady lover of any kind yet. Especially not a Warlord Prince, males for whom violence and passion were hopelessly intertwined. When a Warlord Prince fixated on a female, he became even more dangerous than he usually was. All other males were rivals and they were dealt with summarily. Warlord Princes pursuing a sexual interest in a female could be leashed only by the chains of Protocol or love. Their attentions were relentless and fully mature witches had struggled to cope with the intensity of that kind of affection.

When Elizabeth made the Offering and established her court, she might be willing to accept John into service. He'd had no indications from her to the contrary. But his craving went deeper than serving, deeper than even being called to her bed occasionally. A Queen was entitled to any pleasure any male of her court could give her, and if John served Elizabeth, she would have that right over him. But that wouldn't be enough for him. He didn't think he could be satisfied with anything short of being acknowledged as her lover.

And, he reminded himself, he was not the only male who had a claim on her. There was another Warlord Prince in her life, and John knew too little of the relationships between Elizabeth and the men who had already chosen her as their Queen. For all he knew, there was another claim, and Protocol demanded he respect it.

But Mother Night, he wanted her.

***

At the end of the third week after the rescue, Rodney went on one of his "daily constitutional strolls." John had never ascertained where precisely he went, but Rodney was careful to shield himself so he never asked. But on this day, Rodney appeared on the road to the farm nearly running. His urgency was contagious and John began to hurry towards the house.

He and Rodney arrived in the upstairs hallway at the same time. Elizabeth was standing in the doorway to her room, clearly alerted to their anxiety. Rodney produced a letter that he handed to Elizabeth.

She sank into a chair as she read. "Carson says Kolya and Lucius fell for our trap. They both believe Evan rescued me and that I'm in hiding with him somewhere in Pegasus. They're searching for us both." Elizabeth had explained vaguely that the reason Carson had remained in Atlantis had something to do with his unique skill with sight shields. John could only assume the other man was spying on Elizabeth's behalf.

"Thank the Darkness," Rodney muttered. "Wait, what about me? They didn't notice I was missing too?"

John rolled his eyes. Elizabeth hid a smile.

Before Rodney's ego could be properly soothed, John felt the touch of a female mind. "Hell's fire," he cursed, hastening to the window.

From the small courtyard before the house, Janet Fraiser waved up at John. A Purple Dusk Healer who lived in the village, she had tended both John's father and mother when they were ill. Her daughter Cassie, a young girl who wore the Rose, was with her. John waved back automatically, shielding his emotional response carefully.

Janet was no fool. She would have sensed that someone was in the house besides John. "We have a problem."

Rodney's demeanor shifted from petulant to protective within a heartbeat, reminding John that this man was still an Opal-Jeweled Warlord with a vulnerable young Queen to care for. "What is it?"

John explained briefly. There was a knock on the door and he went to answer it, leaving Rodney and Elizabeth arguing in whispers about what to do.

Oh yes, Janet knew that John had a female guest. She raised an eyebrow. "Is this a bad time?"

He forced a smile onto his face. "Of course not. Come in."

Cassie pounced on him and gave him a hug before Janet urged her to go out behind the house. The tree swing, on which John had played as a boy, was still there and within moments Cassie was sweeping back and forth outside the back windows.

Once little ears were safely out of range, Janet sat down at the kitchen table. "We don't have to stay if you're in the middle of something," she said demurely, though a wicked smile was tugging at her lips.

John flushed. The privileges of being a Warlord Prince came with a price. There were a few women in the village who hadn't been afraid of climbing into bed with a volatile and potentially dangerous male. He hadn't kept those liaisons a secret, though none of them had ripened into genuine intimacy. He also felt no shame about them. None of them had been forced into anything, and to his knowledge no one in the village questioned the fact that of course a young, dark-jeweled Warlord Prince would need to seek out companionship on occasion. Even someone as solitary as him.

Janet, however, had been something of an older sister in many ways over the years, and took no end of delight in teasing him. Ordinarily John would just roll his eyes and ignore it, but now there was risk. If Elizabeth's presence and identity were discovered, they were all in danger.

And for whatever reason, John did not want Elizabeth to hear about his sexual appetites, especially not from Janet.

Before he could figure out what to do, Elizabeth appeared on the stairs. She was dressed, as usual, in a plain tunic and trousers, and something about her psychic scent was off. It took a moment for John to realize a spell had been cast that concealed her caste. She appeared to be a normal Blood female wearing a Green Jewel.

He narrowed his eyes. The spell was at the Red, meaning only someone with a darker jewel would see through it. But neither Elizabeth nor Rodney could have created it. John made a mental note to ask about that later.

Elizabeth smiled at Janet with a friendly nod, "Sister."

"Sister," Janet replied. She looked from Elizabeth to John in surprise. Clearly this was not who she had been expecting.

John obeyed the instructions Elizabeth sent along the Green psychic thread without thinking. "Janet, this is my cousin Elizabeth." As soon as the words were out, he gritted his teeth.

While conversing pleasantly with Janet about how no one in Glen Eyrie had known John had any family, Elizabeth spoke to him again along the Green. *What's wrong?*

He couldn't completely hide his annoyance. *Cousin?*

He felt her mental shrug. *Our hair and eye color are close enough to seem like a family resemblance.*

He could feel her waiting for an explanation, but he retreated behind the Gray shields. Hell's fire, it was difficult enough maintaining the veneer of politeness that allowed Warlord Princes to interact with the rest of the Blood around her. John didn't think he could pretend to be her relative, pretend that his interest in her was the merely the solicitous concern of family. Not with the way she pulled and teased at his senses.

He missed most of the conversation, and when he caught up Elizabeth was explaining that she was visiting along with a friend who was resting upstairs.

"Has he been ill?" Janet asked and John sent a frantic warning along the Green thread just in time.

"He- no," Elizabeth said, confused. "No, he just doesn't sleep terribly well when he's not at home, so he tends to take naps a lot."

Having managed to avoid Janet demanding to see Rodney, John sighed in quiet relief. Then Janet was standing and calling Cassie to come inside. John's manners kicked in enough to see them out.

When he returned, Rodney was at the bottom of the stairs, looking at Elizabeth worriedly. "Well, so much for no one knowing we were here."

***

The days lengthened and summer arrived. Weeks passed. John took Elizabeth and Rodney to the tavern in Glen Eyrie, since the news was out that the young Warlord Prince had guests anyway, and a stampede of curious neighbors wasn't going to help anyone.

The spell concealing Elizabeth's caste held, but the people in the village were drawn to her nonetheless. No spell could prevent the pull of a dark-jeweled Queen of the Blood. John's pretty young "cousin" and her friend quickly became objects of intense curiosity in the village.

Rumors began to spread.

*~*~*~*  
4

Rodney's walks, it turned out, were to check for messages from Atlantis. John had heard of locations in the various territories that were known as safe spots to leave sealed letters for another person. Usually the purpose of such places were to pass along secret letters or ones that for whatever reason could not be delivered by courier. John had never had any reason to use such a thing. Rodney mocked him heartily for not even knowing that in the next village to the east of Glen Eyrie, the worn pile of stones at the road crossings was such a drop point.

The week after Janet's surprise visit to the farm, Elizabeth became increasingly snappish with both of the males. John gritted his teeth and leashed his temper and the three of them rode out the beginning of her moon time. Thankfully, Elizabeth didn't argue when Rodney asked her (rather than insisting, as he certainly would have at any other time) to take it easy and read in bed for much of the next three days. John spent most of those days working on the farm, away from the house but close enough to get back quickly. His protective instincts were heightened dangerously by her vulnerability, and Elizabeth's own defensiveness was increased by the memory of what had happened a month ago. It wasn't a pleasant combination. Twice they nearly started screaming at one another because Elizabeth bristled when he ordered her to rest. In both cases Rodney was stuck with the unfortunate task of stepping between a Queen and a Warlord Prince who were both looking for someone to snarl at. But it kept John and Elizabeth from a direct confrontation.

When Elizabeth was finally able to use her Jewels again without pain, John let Rodney spend an entire afternoon ordering him around, digging new trenches for the irrigation system. John prayed silently that Elizabeth would reach her throne before they had to go through Elizabeth's moon time again.

The next week, John was headed back into the farmhouse in the afternoon when he heard raised voices. This was not exactly unusual. Rodney had a tendency to yell about almost everything and the last few days had been hard on him. This time, though, he could hear Elizabeth's voice as well. "I need to make this decision on my own time!"

"Your birthday is a week from today!" Rodney shot back. John stopped. He and Elizabeth had been born on the exact same day? Before that could sink in, Rodney continued. "You'll be an adult, free to go back to Atlantis without needing a guardian. You can set up your court. If you make the Offering to the Darkness before then-"

"Rodney!" Elizabeth interrupted. Even though John was downstairs and they were on the upper floor, John could feel the embarrassment coming off of Elizabeth in waves.

Rodney dropped his voice, a little. "Look, I'm not suggesting you ask Sheppard to arrange your Virgin Night, but that healer woman, she likes you. I'm sure she could find someone-"

"Warlord." Elizabeth's voice had gone cold and Rodney stopped short. "I will decide when I am ready for this step, and that is final. Do not mention this again."

There was a moment of silence before Rodney barreled down the stairs. He threw John one hostile glance and stalked out of the house. John sent a warning after him along an Opal thread. *It's going to rain.*

He got no reply.

John puttered around the kitchen for a few minutes, trying to ignore the rage he could still feel simmering off of the Queen. It was enormously difficult not to go to her, try to soothe her or barring that, give her some way to vent the frustration. He didn't have that right, and so he kept his eyes on his work and pushed aside the way Elizabeth's anger riled his own temper.

Finally she came down the stairs slowly. Her face was still dark and John swallowed, doing his best to keep his expression blank.

She wasn't fooled. "I imagine you heard most of that."

John shrugged.

Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I know he's right. I know that we're stuck, waiting on my decision. I can feel that the time is..." She trailed off, folding her arms over herself. "And I know that every day we are imposing on you even more."

His heart sped up. Elizabeth sounded as though she were considering leaving and the thought of her someplace where he couldn't protect her made his blood run cold. "You aren't an imposition, Lady."

"This is your home. You've placed yourself in danger on my account, and having us always underfoot can't be pleasant for you."

Rodney perhaps would be more pleasant to deal with if he wasn't always in the same house, but John was already having trouble imagining himself living without Elizabeth under the same roof.

From the way she stared John was afraid the surge of longing and desire he felt at the thought had leaked through the shields he tried to maintain when he was around her. He looked away. "I pledged my honor to keep you safe. I don't go back on my word." She couldn't leave him. He didn't send the thought outward, but John was certain Elizabeth could feel his desperation anyway.

"I know," she answered quietly. They locked eyes for a moment and John could see her understanding. With a deliberate shake of her head, she moved to the door. "I'm going to go for a walk."

"Don't go far," John said. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at his coddling and he held up his hands in self defense before she could get angry at him in turn. "It's going to rain soon, and you shouldn't be out wandering around in a downpour."

She departed after a look he couldn't quite interpret. He set himself to deal with several chores around the house he had been neglecting, trying and failing not to review the conversation over and over.

A half an hour passed and the skies grew noticeably darker. The winds began to keen around the house, blowing cold air in through the windows. Neither Elizabeth or Rodney had come back and John began to look anxiously up the lane and over the fields. Summer storms were common in this part of the territory, and John had long ago adapted to the effect they had on him out of necessity. But not knowing precisely where Elizabeth was combined with the lingering effects of her moon time made him far more nervous than usual.

He stepped out into the courtyard behind the house. The bank of clouds rolling down from the mountains was a sickly green color that made his fear jump another notch. Skies like that could produce horrible winds that could shred whole buildings. The need to find Elizabeth and get her to safety overrode the need to respect her privacy. John reached out with the Gray and swept the farm until he felt a familiar presence in the grove.

He hurried across the garden as lightning flickered across the sky. "Lady?" The winds abruptly died as thunder rolled over the farm and John felt himself edging on panic. He could feel her, very close by, but he couldn't see her. "Elizabeth!" he yelled in frustration.

"Yes?"

He spun around and looked up. She was perched on a tree branch, at least a dozen feet off the ground. He forgot his worry in momentary shock. "How in the world did you get up there?" The image of her climbing a tree like a child seemed too incongruous, and this particular tree had no low branches to begin with.

She frowned and shrugged simultaneously. "I walked."

John gaped as Elizabeth stood and instead of falling through thin air floated down until she touched the ground gracefully.

"Is something the matter?" She stood before him, looking puzzled, he shut his jaw with a snap. A knowing look came onto her face. "Do you not know how to walk on air, Prince?"

John shook his head. He'd never even heard of such a thing, but it was a subject they could discuss when they were safely indoors. "The storm is nearly here. We need to get back to the house."

She looked a little disgruntled but she began to walk back, not nearly fast enough for John's comfort. He eyed the clouds that were now swirling towards them dangerously and tried to silently will her to move more quickly. Thick drops of rain began to splatter on them.

Elizabeth held out her hands as a gust of air carried them the final steps into the kitchen, as if she were caressing the wind itself. She grinned. "We don't get storms like this in Atlantis very often."

"You should be grateful for that, Lady. Clearly you haven't seen the kind of destruction a storm like this can wreak," John snapped, shutting and bolting the door as the rain became a torrent. He turned to see Elizabeth looking at him, her expression almost a pout, as though he were spoiling her fun.

Now that she was finally safe, John's brain caught up with the rest of him and he realized that her eyes were wide and her skin was glowing with excitement from the storm. Her hair was damp and had come loose from the braid it was usually in, soft curls falling around her face. The kitchen was dark except for the faint glow from the banked hearth fire and the eerie light coming through the windows.

John's mind also picked that moment to point out that they were alone in the house.

Elizabeth leaned against the window, watching as the storm unleashed its full fury. John couldn't drag his eyes from her figure. In the space of a heartbeat, his imagination conjured the picture of him standing behind her, coaxing her backwards and laying her down on the floor before the fire. Hunger swept through him and his fingers twitched with the desire to slide the tunic and trousers from her and feel her soft skin against his hands.

Mother Night. John turned himself away from Elizabeth, willing the images of making love to her before the fireplace out of his mind. He dug his fingernails into the soft skin of his palms, fighting for self-control.

He felt the brush of her mind against his, and he recoiled. He couldn't let her get too close, not right now. What he was feeling was probably already leaking through the shields as it was. If she got any sense of the truth, she would never feel safe with him again. But the mental touch didn't go away.

He glanced over his shoulder. Elizabeth was looking at him worriedly. Clearly she was aware of the tension in him. He waved towards the windows. "The storm," he lied. "These kinds of storms are volatile. There is no way to predict how bad they will be."

Elizabeth's forehead wrinkled with concern. "Do you think Rodney will be all right?"

John nodded. "I imagine he found shelter somewhere along the road when the rain began." Before he could stop himself, he added. "You should have come back to the house earlier."

She bristled. "I would have-"

"Would you?" he cut her off. "You were perched up in a tree while a huge storm was bearing down on you." His voice was rising and John felt his control slipping. The combination of fear and lust was too much for him to keep everything back, and he decided fear was the lesser of two evils. "You could have been hurt, Elizabeth. The wind could have blown the tree down, or lightning could have struck. Not to mention you didn't see fit to tell me about this ability you have to float through thin air. What if I hadn't found you?"

He was bellowing now, precariously close to losing his grip on his temper entirely, and Elizabeth's eyes were flashing with a dangerous fire. "Don't overstep your boundaries, Prince. I am not a child who doesn't know enough to come in from the rain. I can take care of myself."

"If that was true, we would never have met, Lady."

John wanted to call the words back as soon as they were spoken. Or possibly cut his own tongue out. Elizabeth went shockingly pale and the look of hurt and fury that crossed her face knocked John from the edge of his temper.

For a moment they stood still, staring at one another. John struggled to find his voice. "Elizabeth, I-"

*Don't.* She stormed out of the kitchen and went upstairs, leaving John rubbing his face with his hands and silently cursing himself with every foul name he could think of as the rain lashed at the windows.

 

***

Rodney returned in the evening, bedraggled and unhappy but in one piece. The three of them ate dinner in brittle silence. At first Rodney seemed to believe the tension was from his earlier fight with Elizabeth. It was selfish, but John made no effort to correct him. As the meal wore on, with Elizabeth barely touching her food and pointedly not looking at John, Rodney started to get suspicious.

John got up from the table abruptly. "I'm going to go check the farm for damage from the storm," he muttered, leaving the house and purposely shutting out any chance of hearing or sensing what happened in his absence.

He walked the length and breadth of the fields, collecting broken branches and debris that had been left by the strong winds, allowing the open land to soothe his temper. By the time he had completed the circle and was approaching the house again, his anger had bled away and left only remorse and self-disgust behind.

He went to his room and took a shower, cleaning off the dirt and sweat from the whole day, and changed into clean clothes. The sunset was glowing over the mountains when he emerged, and he paused in the open doorway to Elizabeth's room.

He wanted Elizabeth to feel she had a private place where she was safe, so he leaned against the doorframe rather than actually entering the room. It was empty, but the bed was made, as was the cot Rodney slept on. Elizabeth had been in her room with the door closed when he came in, and John saw a piece of wood lying on the bedside table.

It was a frame, he realized, his skin chilling with goose bumps. The basic frame for weaving a tangled web. Silk threads crossed the frame. Was that what she had been doing earlier?

Elizabeth's mother had been a natural Black Widow. Even though Elizabeth was not a member of the Hourglass coven, it made sense that her mother had taught her much about spinning webs for dreams or guidance. He had no idea what kind of web was in the frame now, but John could well imagine that in her current situation, Elizabeth would leave no stone unturned in looking for help.

A sound distracted him and John went downstairs. He followed the noise into the sitting room, where his mother's old piano was open. John hadn't touched it in years, but Rodney had been tinkering with it in his spare time. He'd clearly tuned the instrument, for a gentle melody was echoing through the room as Rodney played. John hadn't seen the Warlord look so at peace since they met.

The windows were open, and John caught sight of Elizabeth sitting on a bench in the courtyard. Swallowing his pride, John went outside and sat down next to her. Her back stiffened slightly, but she didn't pull away.

Reluctant to interrupt the music, John stared at his feet. *I'm sorry.*

He said nothing else, just waited. He could feel Elizabeth's exasperation as she considered his apology.

*Why were you so angry?* she asked.

He sighed, scuffing his shoe against the stone. *I don't like the idea of you being somewhere where I can't get to you* he told her honestly.

Elizabeth considered this for a moment. When she reached out and placed her hand over his, John's heart soared with relief. He could feel her forgiveness, and more importantly her acceptance of who and what he was. Yes, this Queen understood the nature of Warlord Princes, the way the instinct to protect those they loved was incised down to the marrow and could override every other emotion. It was no wonder that John was drawn to her so intensely. He wanted to serve in her court, to claim his place serving a Queen who could endure his faults and accept what he had to offer.

Something of his longing apparently slipped through their connection, for Elizabeth looked at him closely for a long moment. Her fingers caressed the back of his hand soothingly and she gave him a small nod.

It wasn't a formal request for service, but it seemed to be the promise of one, and it was enough to make John a little giddy. She wouldn't simply leave him, not if she intended to accept him into her court.

*Don't think you're entirely off the hook, Prince. There still has to be some punishment for your sassiness.*

John looked at her with a beseeching expression his mother had dubbed his puppy face. *What about Rodney? Isn't he going to be punished?*

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and John caught an image from her thoughts. Elizabeth was curled up in a window seat in a long room filled with books, a room John had never seen. She was cuddling a pillow in her lap. A large piano was across the room and Rodney, looking somewhat younger than he did now, was playing gently while she listened.

John got it. The serenade was Rodney's atonement. Apparently this was far from the first time the Warlord had said something to upset his Queen.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she heard that thought.

They sat in companionable silence for a while longer as Rodney continued to play and the skies darkened. John didn't recognize the tune and a quick question to Elizabeth confirmed that Rodney was either playing one of his own compositions or simply inventing as he went along.

Eventually Rodney's fingers tired and he went to the kitchen to get something to eat. John reached out and lit the two lanterns that guarded the entrance to the courtyard with tiny balls of witch light.

Elizabeth stretched, rubbing her arms lightly against the night's chill. John put aside the thought of wrapping his arm around her for warmth and then remembered something. "How were you able to climb up into that tree?"

Elizabeth blinked for a moment. "You really don't know how to walk on air?"

Now John rolled his eyes. "You say that like I should've learned this as a child."

"Well, no, I don't mean that," Elizabeth shrugged. "But it's not a hard thing to do." She hesitated for a moment and John got up.

He held out a hand. "Show me?"

Elizabeth grasped his fingers and climbed up onto the bench, pulling John with her. "You can feel the bench under your feet? Just like you would feel the ground or a floor, right?" He nodded. "All you need to do is hang on to that feeling. Extend the bench or the ground wherever you need it to go."

So saying, she stepped forward, standing at the height of the bunch but in midair.

John frowned. How could walking through the air be that simple? He took a deep breath, though, and concentrated on the feeling under his feet and took a step forward.

He lost his balance almost immediately and began to fall. Elizabeth grabbed him before his foot could strike the ground and abruptly John was clinging to her to stay upright.

She held him by the shoulders and John's arms were wrapped around her body. Elizabeth's power was keeping them both in the air, but John wasn't aware of it right away. His mind was distracted by the press of her breasts against his chest and the even closer brush of her mind. For a moment, before she recovered from the shock, John felt her reaction to his proximity. Her body warmed and somewhere part of her wanted to hold him even more tightly than she already was, and not merely to keep him from hurting himself.

Elizabeth coughed and straightened herself, her mind pulling back from his, but John's heart was racing.

She wanted him.

It was tentative and buried in the modesty of a young lady without any experience in the bed, but it was there. The desire was not solely his.

John wanted to punch the air in exultation.

He didn't dare, of course. Thankfully he managed to stand upright because Rodney appeared in the doorway nibbling on some bread. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of Elizabeth and John tangled together, not to mention floating.

Elizabeth grinned at Rodney. "It appears no one every bothered to teach John how to air walk."

Rodney got an insufferably smug look on his face. He floated up into the air without so much as a twitch, and then sat down as if reclining on a couch and continued to eat his snack.

John wanted badly to stick his tongue out at Rodney. He settled for glaring before turning back to Elizabeth. "I don't seem to be getting it."

"No," she observed wryly. "You need to concentrate on the sensation of having something solid under you."

Physically John pulled back a little more, testing his stance. But the temptation was too great and he reached out on the Green thread and touched her mind again. If he could see and feel how Elizabeth was supporting them, perhaps he could get it to work.

Even in his own thoughts John refused to admit the possibility that he was hoping for more information to slip through Elizabeth's mental barriers.

It wasn't necessary in any case. Elizabeth's mind opened for a moment and John got the impression of her visualizing the bench stretching across the courtyard. He could tell for her this was something she did almost automatically now, but that was after much practice.

He focused his mind and then Elizabeth let him go and he was standing by himself. He took a few careful steps and his body relaxed. It was almost like lifting an object using Craft, except he was lifting himself.

Elizabeth was beaming at him. Rodney applauded sardonically. John tried stepping up to a higher level, causing Elizabeth to say almost by reflex, "Be careful!"

He grinned down at her. "You sound like my mother, Lady." She put her hands on her hips and shot him a look. John laughed. "I was always making my parents crazy when I was little, jumping out of trees and off rocks. I wanted to fly." He looked up at the skies, where the clouds were now gone and stars twinkled alluringly overhead. He moved even higher, until there was nothing between him and the sky.

"And yet it never occurred to you to try until now?" Rodney asked.

John couldn't believe it himself. "I knew how to use Craft to help when jumping, to go higher or to control a landing, but I never thought of simply floating like this."

He glanced back down and realized just how high up he'd gone. His stomach did a little flip. He was awfully high off the ground, and Craft notwithstanding, there was nothing solid beneath his feet. Before he could falter, he felt Elizabeth's power wrap around him again, steadying his descent back to earth so he didn't lose control and plummet all the way down.

"You need to practice," she admonished him. Rodney snorted in amusement, but she quelled him with a look.

"Yes, ma'am," John smiled, jumping the last distance until his feet hit stone again.

Elizabeth started to roll her eyes but she yawned instead. "I think I'm going to retire for the night."

John reached out and put a hand on her arm before she could go. "Elizabeth?" When her eyes met his he reached out one last time across the mental divide, so that she would understand. "Thank you."

She smiled at him, soft and slightly bashful, "You're welcome, John."

***

On the morning of his birthday, John was dragged from a heavy sleep by loud knocking at the front door. By the time he had gotten out of bed and pulled a robe over his naked body, he heard female voices talking downstairs.

Janet and Cassie were in the kitchen, speaking to Elizabeth. Cassie ran as soon as she saw him. "Happy Birthday!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and John lifted her up in a bear hug.

"Thanks." He set her down and found Elizabeth staring at him, one eyebrow raised, and realized he was in for it as soon as they were alone.

Janet waved to a large box on the table. "I know you don't like being fussed over, John, but Cassie and I wanted you to have something special today." John peeked inside and found a large cake in the box. He wasn't surprised. Janet had been bringing him a cake on this day for years, ever since his mother had died. Normally she came by in the evenings, but now with Elizabeth and Rodney at the farm, she must have decided to avoid intruding.

"Thank you," he said quietly, hugging Janet tightly for a moment.

She smiled, ruffling his hair in a motherly fashion and kissing him on the cheek. "Happy Birthday, John."

Janet called Cassie, who had been talking excitedly to Elizabeth about her Craft lessons, and they left after Cassie squeezed Elizabeth in a hug.

Elizabeth folded her arms over her chest. "So."

John shifted, annoyed that he felt like a little boy caught in a falsehood. "So."

"It's your birthday."

"Yes."

"And you knew that today is also my birthday."

He sighed. "Yes."

She said nothing further, just raised that damn eyebrow again. John growled. "Fine. I'm sorry I didn't mention it. I've never particularly enjoyed celebrating my birthday, that's all." When he had been younger, when his mother had still been alive, it had been different, but every birthday since had only been a reminder of what was missing.

Elizabeth looked stricken for a moment, then she turned thoughtful. "Do you think it means something?" He looked at her and she waved a hand at the space between them. "We were born on the same day, a year apart, and when by all rights there should have been no way for you to reach me..." she trailed off in discomfort.

John bit his lower lip. He couldn't deny that he had wondered about this before. It seemed too much for mere coincidence. Their lives seemed to be joined together, by some force greater than themselves.

Again, something nagged at his memory, something about his birth. Some detail his mother had told him long ago, but it slipped away before he could remember it fully.

He turned his attention back to Elizabeth and tried a tentative smile. "So, happy birthday?"

She relaxed a little. "You too."

***

Rodney spent most of the day alternately fussing over Elizabeth's birthday and berating John for not telling them that it was also his birthday. "We could have had two cakes!" Rodney kept pointing out.

John and Elizabeth just rolled their eyes.

John had worried about what to give Elizabeth as a present. Everything he thought of seemed inappropriate, especially knowing as he now did that Elizabeth had at least some measure of desire for him. Instead of making him more comfortable, it made him that much more guarded against letting any of his own feelings slip in her presence. After she had gone through her Virgin Night and made the Offering, he intended to reveal his interest and stake a claim according to the laws of Protocol, assuming there was no other prior claim on her attentions, but he didn't dare do it yet. The situation was still too precarious.

He had finally settled on a gift for her, a small, ceramic pot of delicate handiwork. Elizabeth had been lingering over them in the shops one afternoon. He hoped it would be thoughtful enough that she would understand the sentiment, but not grossly inappropriate for a man who had no official relationship with her.

As the sun was setting after they ate dinner, she unwrapped the pot and smiled. "It's beautiful, John." Then she looked at him. "How did you know I was thinking of buying this?"

He swallowed, not willing to admit that the day he had accompanied her to the village he had spent most of his time watching her covertly. "I have my sources, Lady."

Rodney presented her with a small jewelry box and John pushed back a twitch of jealousy. Rodney, as an old and trusted friend, could give Elizabeth an ornate gift without arousing any suspicions. But when Elizabeth opened the box, she paled slightly. "Oh, Rodney."

Rodney looked surprisingly emotional. "She left that with me, before..." He coughed. "She wanted you to have it today."

Elizabeth lifted a delicate silver bracelet from the box. She must have caught a hint of John's confusion, because she glanced at him. "This was my mother's."

She reached out and grasped Rodney's hand for a moment before letting him put the bracelet on her arm. Then she sighed. "I'm being silly, I know."

John sat down across from her. "How so?"

She leaned back in the chair. "We planned for today for so long. Even after my mother died, we were planning a big party for today, to celebrate my coming of age." Her independence, John thought. Freedom from Lucius and Elizabeth being an adult in her own right, ready to take on the responsibilities of a Witch of the Blood, and Queen of a province.

He could feel the sadness coming from her. Now she was here, in a strange place, far away from everyone she had known and loved, hiding for fear of her life. But he didn't know what to do to comfort her.

Rodney patted her arm awkwardly. "We'll be home soon. I'm sure Teyla and Carson and the others will insist on having the party regardless of what day it's on." Teyla, John had learned, had been the one to fashion the spell that covered Elizabeth's caste. She was one of Elizabeth's closest friends outside Rodney, Carson and Evan Lorne.

Elizabeth smiled a little and Rodney moved away from her to the piano. He began to play a song John recognized. It was a waltz, very popular in the court during parties. Elizabeth's eyes were still wistful as she stared at the small fireplace. John couldn't stand it.

He stood up, moving the chairs and table out of the way with Craft, and offered Elizabeth his hand, a mischievous smile on his face.

She regarded him for a moment before she grinned. Elizabeth took his hand and let John wrap an arm around her waist and lead her around the room. He ignored the eye rolling he could practically feel from Rodney and focused on her. She was smiling openly now, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks turning pink as they swept around the room energetically. John had learned how to dance as a necessity for court service, but he had rarely enjoyed it this much.

He couldn't help but react to the way she felt in his arms. She was tall, almost his own height, and he could look into her eyes without having to duck down. Her long legs and arms which sometimes seemed slightly awkward flowed naturally now as they moved.

He turned her and then pulled her back to him and warmth sizzled through his body as she stepped willingly into his arms and pressed against him for a moment before regaining her balance. Her closeness teased his senses but he enjoyed it, the tantalizing feel of her body and the soft glide of her skin against his hands. He shielded her from his desires automatically, but he couldn't hide his appreciation of her.

The melody shifted as Rodney changed from the waltz to another tune without missing a beat. Elizabeth grinned at John and he gasped and looked down.

They were dancing in midair, hovering a foot off the floor. The joy on her face made his heart almost ache with it. John swallowed around the lump in his throat. He held on to Elizabeth a little more tightly and gave thanks that the ceilings in the room were very high. They whirled through the open space, unimpeded by anything. John felt for a moment like he was flying.

Rodney wound up the song with a loud, emphatic ending. John and Elizabeth nearly missed the final beat. As they came to an abrupt halt both of them laughed as they struggled to hold still. They carefully sank back down onto the floor.

He released her reluctantly, drawing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Heightened as his senses were, he didn't miss the flare of interest and longing in her eyes as he did so. But she recovered and curtsied to him. "Prince."

"Lady," he answered with his best formal bow.

She giggled immediately, ruining the effect, and turned to Rodney, who leaned back from the piano and waved a hand. "Time for cake?"

John went ahead of them to get plates and forks. Rodney jokingly escorted Elizabeth to the kitchen, where both of the males insisted she sit while they gathered everything. As John and Rodney bickered like a pair of old ladies over the dishes and candles, Elizabeth laughed at their antics so hard she pressed a hand to her side. By the time they all sat down while she cut their birthday cake, her face was red and John felt more contented and relaxed than he had in days.

They lingered in the kitchen until Elizabeth yawned so heavily the two men followed suit. Rodney shooed her off to bed so they could clean up. Elizabeth got up and then kissed Rodney on the cheek and hugged him tightly for a moment, whispering a thank you quietly.

Rodney hugged her back a little awkwardly, one hand full of plates already.

She turned to John and his mouth went a little dry. He would have been happy with a simple handshake, but she put her hands on his shoulders and brushed her lips against his cheek quickly. His arms closed about her automatically as she held him a little closer than strictly necessary. He breathed in the scent of her hair and for a split second he couldn't conceal his reaction. Desire throbbed through him, need and proximity mixing dizzyingly as he admitted that he wanted nothing more than to keep her in his arms like this for the rest of the night.

They were face to face, very close together. John remained still. Elizabeth was the one who leaned forward and kissed him. It was feather-light and she pulled back almost instantly but warmth washed through his entire body.

A crashing noise shocked him out of his daze. Rodney had dropped the dishes into the sink. He wasn't looking towards them, though John knew that every detail was being monitored carefully.

John let Elizabeth go. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes wide, and he reined in his emotions behind the Gray shields quickly, before she got the wrong idea.

"Thank you, John."

He resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss her deeply. "You're welcome, Elizabeth."

She flushed a little more at that, and then went upstairs.

That night, John's nightmares started again.

*~*~*~*  
5

If John was nervous about seeing the Black Widow Priestess again, Rodney was fairly dancing with anxiety. Elizabeth had gone in to speak to the woman alone while they lingered in the entrance to the sanctuary.

John had waited too long to ask for help with his dreams last time. It had nearly cost Elizabeth everything. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. The morning after their birthday, John had mentioned he'd been dreaming. When it happened a second night, he agreed with Elizabeth that they needed to speak to the Priestess. He'd come here with them, and told the old woman everything he had seen. She had pushed them gently outside and John assumed she had spun or used one of the tangled webs that were the dangerous, powerful tools of the Black Widows to look into the future.

Then she had called Elizabeth into the sanctuary and closed the doors. That had been a good fifteen minutes ago.

The inner doors opened again, causing both men to turn. But no one was there.

"John?" Elizabeth called him.

He shot a look at Rodney, who folded his lips tightly and nodded. John walked into the sanctuary.

The doors closed behind him, cutting off the afternoon light. He squinted until he was able to see Elizabeth. She was seated on a stool next to the Priestess. Even in the flickering candle light, she looked horribly pale.

"Come," the older woman beckoned. Her silver hair gleamed in the light. When he stood before her, she nodded absently. "You did well, Prince. You heeded the warnings."

He swallowed hard when her face darkened.

"But now, the danger is greater, and closing fast." The Priestess pointed to Elizabeth. "The Lady must have her Virgin Night. Tonight. Or else all will be lost."

That accounted for Elizabeth's pallor. Usually a witch decided for herself when she was ready to go through with the Virgin Night.

John thought furiously as Elizabeth stared at the ground. Jealousy stabbed within him but he shut it away. This wasn't something he could do. A young Warlord Prince was already volatile, and John's emotions were barely under his control where Elizabeth was concerned as it was. There was no way her could take on such a dangerous task. And Virgin Nights were outside the realm of fidelity and trust for that very reason: the danger to the female until she was safely through the night.

But there were a few men in the village he thought were trustworthy. If he asked one of them, told them it was for his cousin, his kin...

The old woman's fingers suddenly stabbed the air at John. "You must do this."

His blood froze. "What?"

Seeing a witch through her Virgin Night was usually the responsibility of an older male, someone trusted by the family but not a close friend. It was not the act of a lover, but a duty. Older males with more experience in the bed were better able to care for the young witch, ensuring that when her hymen was broken her inner web remained intact. Even a powerful witch could be damaged, the inner core of the self that allowed the Blood to perform complicated Craft and commune with the Darkness shattered mercilessly by violence at the wrong moment. It was a delicate task for the male responsible, given the thousand different ways it could go wrong.

"You must do this," the Priestess repeated harshly.

He physically backed away. "I can't."

"You must."

"I CAN'T!" he bellowed, startling both the women. Elizabeth recoiled. John wanted to tear something apart. He struggled to get control of his temper, pacing and snarling.

The Priestess shook the black strands of her sleeves out, huffing in exasperation. "If it is not you, she will be broken. If it is not this night, she will be broken."

Hell's fire, Mother Night and the Darkness be merciful.

Elizabeth finally looked at him. He could see the terror on her face, feel the way the fear was coiling through her. He wanted to grab her, wrap his strength and power around her and promise to keep her safe. He wanted to rip the Priestess into pieces until she said she was lying or wasn't sure.

He opened his mouth but the words wouldn't come out. He reached out on the Red thread to the Priestess. *What if I can't control myself? What if I break her? I cannot do this.*

And if he hurt Elizabeth, if he was responsible for breaking her, he would kill himself.

The Priestess replied with frustrating certainty. *If you do not try, she will be broken by the time the sun rises.*

***

They walked back to the farm house from the landing web in silence. John stared at the clouds piling in the west, blocking out the sunset. He could sense the furious argument going on between Elizabeth and Rodney, but it was being conducted on psychic threads. And his temper was so close to the surface he was afraid any provocation would snap the leash.

Mother Night, how was he going to get through this?

As they approached the house, John frowned. Aiko was on the doorstep. She had been inside when he left.

Then he noticed something in her mouth.

Elizabeth hurried forward, taking the folded parchment from Aiko and tearing it open. John felt the fear stab through her as she read. Elizabeth sat down on the step as if she could no longer stand. "Carson's hurt. He's disappeared. Kolya sent someone to investigate the rumors of a girl and an Opal-Jeweled Warlord who appeared in a neighboring territory."

"Lorne's birthright jewel was Opal," Rodney said grimly. There had been no word from Evan Lorne in the last two months, but the men hunting Elizabeth believed the Warlord Prince was the one who was with Elizabeth.

So this was the reason for the Priestess' warnings. Whoever Kolya had sent was already on his way.

"We could run," Rodney said desperately. "Go somewhere else and hide again."

"It could be too late," John countered. "If they've picked up the trail, it will be harder to lose them."

"We could still try-"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head. She pushed herself back to her feet. The Green Jewel at her throat flashed with contained fire and her anger pricked at John's temper like a violent caress. "I won't run any more."

Rodney swallowed whatever protests he had been going to make. "Um, okay. We're, I mean you're, going to need the Night of Fire brew for this, I imagine."

Elizabeth nodded. "I've been drinking a contraceptive brew for several weeks, but I don't have the ingredients for that one."

"Janet," John said. "She'll be able to make it."

Rodney raised a hand and then sighed. "Yeah, I'll go." He gave John one hard glance and left.

John and Elizabeth stared at one another in silence.

She broke the stalemate abruptly. "I'm going to go... get ready."

She turned and walked into the house.

***

A thunderstorm was rumbling ominously outside when Rodney returned from Janet's. John could imagine Janet's comments on the situation but Rodney kept that to himself, thankfully.

He had Rodney place an Opal shield around the house, and then John placed a Sapphire shield inside of it. Anyone approaching who thought they could slip through the Opal would crash into the Sapphire.

"I'd say good luck, but..." Rodney looked at him. John knew that Rodney had come to see him as a friend and ally, but right now, his only concern was Elizabeth. The threat coming off the Warlord was palpable. Which was as it should be. John just nodded and climbed the stairs.

He paused outside his bedroom, sensing Elizabeth's presence inside. He wished the trembling in his limbs could have been blamed on the approaching storm, but the truth was he was scared as hell. He knew the theory, as did all Blood males, but he'd never seen a witch through a Virgin Night before. Older Warlord Princes with more experience controlling their tempers were capable of performing the service, but no one was crazy enough to put a young Warlord Prince into a room with a fragile witch when a single wrong move could shatter her inner web.

If she had been a stranger, John could have steadied himself enough to carry out his duty. In an emergency, with her safety hanging in the balance, he could have done this for any other young witch who needed him.

But not for Elizabeth. He'd spent almost two months living side by side with her. His desire and his interest had only grown stronger over that time, even though he was careful to keep that knowledge away from Elizabeth, not wanting to frighten her or make her uncomfortable. Not even when she began to respond to what had slipped through the barriers. Not even now that he knew his interest was returned. And tonight could destroy what closeness he had managed to build between them over the last few weeks.

He reached for the doorknob and stopped. The mere thought of taking her to bed made the hunger within him roar. How in hell was he going to stop himself from ravaging her at the first moment?

Lightning flashed outside and thunder cracked over the house loud enough to make him jump.

_If you do not try, she will be broken by the time the sun rises._

Everything has a price.

He turned his fear and desperation in on himself, locking back the passion and desire native to a Warlord Prince. This was not about sex. It was a battlefield. His only purpose was to get Elizabeth across the field safely. He would not allow himself to think of anything else.

He stepped into the room, closing the door and putting an Opal shield around the room. It would screen out any unwanted visitors, but it wouldn't make Elizabeth feel trapped.

Elizabeth was standing near the window, wearing the thin robe he'd seen her in before. Except now there was nothing underneath it.

John's teeth clamped down on his tongue. He channeled some of the Gray power into his own body, tightening the leash on his desires further.

She turned slowly, looking at him with frightened eyes. One hand held the top of her robe together at her throat. Wonderful. She was petrified. He couldn't blame her for being anxious, but he had hoped that the hesitant flickers of desire he'd started to sense from her would sustain her now, give him something he could draw upon to help them both.

"John, I know you don't want to do this," she began miserably. He cut her off.

"I won't let those bastards break you, Elizabeth. Not while there's anything I can do to prevent it. I swore I would keep you safe and I will." The suppressed lust radiated under the surface, translating as unyielding power. Elizabeth blinked, somewhat dazed.

Before she could recover, he called in the decanter Rodney had brought. He poured the Night of Fire brew into two mugs before it could cool and lose its potency. He handed one mug to Elizabeth. "Drink," he ordered tersely.

She stared at the cup, unmoving. Fear rolled off her in waves. John doubted he would ever forget her memory of being drugged to the point where she couldn't move. He could understand her reticence to take any kind of drug but he couldn't do this if she didn't.

"Elizabeth," he growled in frustration.

She flinched. "I'm sorry."

For a moment he hesitated to take her hand, then his mind pointed out they were going to be in much closer contact than that shortly. He held his hand out and waited. Her fingers were cold against his skin.

"I will not harm you," he said softly. "You know exactly how far I was willing to go to protect you. Now I need you to remember that you trust me."

The small ripple of warmth he felt eased his surface worries. He raised his cup in a mock salute and brought it to his lips. She returned the toast with a weak smile and sipped the brew.

Thankfully, she focused on her own mug and not his. John didn't dare swallow the aphrodisiac. His body was already reacting to her proximity. He couldn't risk taking something that would erode his emotional control further.

Elizabeth took one long sip and then paused. She let go of his hand and took another, longer drink. Then she grabbed the mug in both hands and drained the brew.

John suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

She stared at him. Then she smiled.

Mother Night.

She floated the empty cup over to a table. She closed the gap between them and John was all-too-aware of the way her hips slid from side to side more than normal. He scrabbled inwardly for control. Her fingers brushed against his face lightly, and he could feel the heat radiating from her through the thin material of the robe. Her eyes were glassy with desire and the air around him was thick with her scent. John moaned a little as her gaze fixed on his mouth. The cup he was holding slipped from his fingers and crashed onto the floor.

He leaned in and kissed her, the way he had been longing to for months. She responded without coyness or hesitation and the kiss rapidly became a duel between them. He smiled a little against her mouth as she met his passion with her own, or at least with what the potion had inspired in her.

Remembering that helped him focus, kept his mind on what he was here for. He kissed Elizabeth lazily, his hands drifting up and down her back as if he had nothing better to do. She tried to force him to deepen the kiss, pressing her body against his. John's mind staggered as her soft curves met his chest and his thighs. His hands fell, cupping her backside on instinct and Elizabeth purred in satisfaction.

He screwed his eyes shut and prayed for strength.

Somehow he managed to step back from her and began to unbutton his shirt. She watched each movement of his hands greedily as he shed the shirt and then unfastened his pants. When her gaze raked over him from head to toes, his balls ached behind his hard cock at the approval on her face.

Then she loosened the tie on the robe and allowed it to slide off her shoulders and pool on the floor.

His mouth went dry. She was utterly gorgeous and the possessive drive roared to life within him, the need to take her and make her his nearly overwhelming him. He dug his fingernails into his palms viciously even as she stalked towards him, the huntress chasing her prey.

He'd just gotten his emotions locked back down when Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest and one silky leg twined around his hip. John allowed his hands to roam over her skin, insinuating them between their bodies to fondle her breasts, drawing a heady moan from her lips. He opened his senses enough to feel her. The aphrodisiac had taken full effect, and Elizabeth would soon be deep in the throes of it.

He grabbed Elizabeth and lifted her in his arms. Her legs wound around his waist instinctively, but he resisted the urge to take her to the bed just yet. Instead he hefted her up and closed his mouth around a nipple.

She writhed in his arms as he suckled. He ignored it, switching to her other breast, using his teeth to tease her. She cried out as he continued, going back and forth, his fingers fondling her backside until she was shaking with need in his arms. Her nails pricked his skin and the pain inflamed him. He carried Elizabeth to the bed and they fell upon it, John on top of her.

He sensed the flicker of distress beneath the haze of lust he'd been building inside of her. He was still connected to her thoughts as the memory of the assault rose in her mind.

Cursing to himself, John fell to the side and rolled carefully away. He should have known that the memories of the attack were too close to the surface. Elizabeth would not be able to take being mounted in that way, not tonight.

Tears rose in her eyes. "I'm sorry-"

Damn it to hell. John abandoned caution and kissed her, letting all of his concern for her flow through their mental connection. "No, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

After a little coaxing, she kissed him back. John forced his mind to consider the situation tactically. The night was passing. He had to get them back on track.

He leaned over her, not enough to make her feel trapped but enough that he could trail light kisses along her neck. When he reached her ear, he called forth all the seductive power he could muster and put it into his voice. "Truth be told, I prefer being on the bottom anyway."

Elizabeth's eyes practically bulged out of her head and John fought to keep the triumphant grin off his face. "You- you do?" she stammered.

He nodded, falling away to lie on his back beside her. "Sure. Less work for me." That got him a dirty look and a stray thought about lazy males. He raised an eyebrow. "Not to mention, it leaves my arms free." He waggled his fingers at her with a smirk.

That definitely caught her interest. John felt the thrum of hot desire go through her as her mind considered the possibilities. "Oh really?" There was a teasing note in her voice, one that promised all manner of things that made John's body break out in sweat. He ignored it and pursued her renewed interest.

He spread his arms. "Come here and I'll show you."

He held his breath as she straddled him and then couldn't contain the growl of approval when her body brushed against his very erect cock. Even with his emotions so tightly locked, there was no way to downplay his physical response to her. Elizabeth wriggled above him, not too gracefully, but she had John clenching his teeth so hard it hurt.

She grinned wickedly. "I'm beginning to see your point, Prince."

He silenced her by cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples, not gently. She clutched at his shoulders, her head tilting as she arched her back, offering herself instinctively.

He was happy to oblige. He sat up, using lips and tongue to bring her arousal back up. Elizabeth whimpered, moving restlessly in his lap and John cursed blackly in the recesses of his mind as his cock throbbed and the desire to thrust up into her made his limbs twitch. It was too soon. She wasn't ready yet. But he could dimly feel the effects of the Night of Fire brew beginning to fade. Time was running out.

His hand slid up the inside of her thigh and then pushed carefully between her legs. Elizabeth moaned when his finger slipped between the folds of skin and found its target.

He fell onto his back, Elizabeth going with him as his finger slid back and forth, spreading the wetness between her thighs easily. Her hips moved into his touch, and she tried to push herself down onto him.

John locked her in an invisible hold, channeling his Gray strength into keeping her from mounting him. His balls ached in protest but John ignored it, biting Elizabeth's ear a little roughly as he kept teasing. Over and over. Up and down. Her arousal and frustration climbed in tandem. The touch was too light, too gentle but her mind had lost all rational thought now, so focused on the spiraling lust rising within her.

John positioned them both, gritting his teeth against the way his cock throbbed at the heat of her so near to him. He held his breath as he focused all his attention on Elizabeth. Her thoughts echoed in his mind. _*So close, so close to the peak. If he just touched her one more time...*_

As the orgasm took her body, he released the invisible bonds and Elizabeth sank onto his cock. He felt the thin membrane break as he penetrated her and his heart stopped, waiting in terror for a long moment.

She gasped once, blinking a little in surprise, but her mind was still too full of the pleasure of the release to truly notice the pain, exactly as he'd hoped. Darkness be merciful, it had worked.

Relief sliced through him, unknowingly also cutting the leash on his desires. His hips pushed up involuntarily, the need he'd locked away so carefully flooding his senses. He ground up into Elizabeth, pleasure cascading through him. It was overwhelming, feeling her body around him, the air laden with her smell and the taste of her skin still on his lips. He wanted more and he no longer cared about anything else. He grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her into a bruising, possessive kiss as his hips began to move against hers.

He felt the light stirring of her psychic touch against his mind and his inner barriers parted without conscious effort as he thrust into her. Elizabeth hovered on the outer edges of his thoughts but John instinctively reached for her, wanting her closer. In the psychic plane he wrapped himself around her, even as his physical body held her tightly to him. As he reached the brink he surrendered himself, to the pleasure of the release and to her. Distantly he heard Elizabeth gasp again, but he couldn't tell if that was a positive or negative reaction.

His own orgasm wracked his body, a tidal wave rushing through him so forcefully he yelled and behind closed eyelids, he saw the flashing of lights almost like stars. He clung to Elizabeth, body and mind, and she held him tightly, anchoring him. Her hands touched his face as he drew in badly needed air and he leaned into the touch, only slowly remembering who was supposed to be taking care of whom right now.

He opened his eyes. Elizabeth was hovering above him, touching his cheek. Her pretty green eyes were wide and dark as she stared at him in shock.

His fingers brushed against her lips gently, before sliding across her cheek and into her hair. John gathered Elizabeth in his arms. She pressed her face against his neck as he soothed her trembling body with gentle hands until she stilled.

She was safe. He could feel her Green strength intact as he pulled his mind away from hers and his thoughts became his own again.

But there were dark circles under her eyes. She was physically and emotionally drained by what had happened today, and as ever, his need to watch over her rose immediately.

Using Craft, he pulled the blankets up, carefully not looking down while he maneuvered Elizabeth onto the mattress next to him. She blinked tiredly at him and he couldn't keep himself from kissing her temple and her lips lightly as she drifted off in his arms.

Once she was out, he called in a washcloth and a basin and cleaned them both, careful not to wake Elizabeth.

Before sleep could claim him as well, John dropped the shield around the room and sent a thought on an Opal thread. *It's done.*

Rodney responded instantly. *She's all right?*

*The web is intact.* He wasn't going to speak to anything beyond that just yet.

*Thank the Darkness.*

John fell asleep.

*~*~*~*  
6

*Sheppard!*

John groaned, resisting the pull of wakefulness. He was comfortable and Elizabeth was snuggled up against his back, warm and soft. He could feel her breath against the nape of his neck. John wanted nothing more than to turn over, pull her closer and drift back to sleep.

*DAMN YOU TO THE BOWELS OF HELL, SHEPPARD! WAKE UP!*

Rodney's insistent screaming snapped John out of his doze. *What is it?*

*We've got company.*

John reached out with his senses. Three Warlords, all wearing the Green. Two of them were in the front of the house, the other was in the back. They had already broken the Opal shield.

He told Rodney to come upstairs and jumped up from the bed, yanking on his clothes.

"John?"

Elizabeth sat up, holding the sheet over herself as she blinked at him. John was transfixed by the sight of her, groggy and rumpled and tucked into his bed, but he didn't have time to savor the moment. "We need to go. Get dressed."

He stepped into the hallway as Rodney approached. "Elizabeth?" he asked in a whisper.

"She's dressing."

"Is there any other way out of the house?" John shook his head. Rodney grew more pale. "Then we'll have to fight."

John thought rapidly. His Gray jewel along with Elizabeth's Green and Rodney's Opal would be able to match the Warlords, but it could turn into a battle. And without making fast kills, one of the men could send a message to the wrong people.

He cursed to himself. One more day and Elizabeth would be able to make the Offering to the Darkness.

They needed to buy time.

"How?" Rodney asked. John hadn't been aware of speaking aloud.

"The Warlords think they're facing a Green-Jeweled Queen and a Sapphire Warlord Prince?" Rodney nodded. John smiled, a lazy and vicious smile that made Rodney shift uncomfortably. "Then we won't disabuse them of that idea just yet."

***

John felt the rage boil over as the three attacking males broke the Sapphire shield, only to hit a Red shield around the farmhouse. He'd set the Red shield in place after using his Gray power to pull Rodney and Elizabeth through the outer wall and get them into the small grove of trees.

Whoever, or whatever, had taught them to create sight shields had done an impressive job. John could sense the shield around them, but it didn't respond to any particular Jewel strength. It seemed almost to vary depending on who was seeing it. With the sight shield and a Gray protective shield, the three of them had moved above the ground and leaving no trail out into the foothills away from the farm. Here they could keep an eye on the Warlords and wait.

Rodney and Elizabeth were both becoming impatient as the sun rose and began to heat the rocks. John had purposely not told them the rest of his plan yet, knowing Rodney in particular would have serious objections. Instead he sent a message to Janet, asking her to alert Prince Sumner, the Warlord Prince of Glen Eyrie, that strangers were attacking his house. Sumner was in Lady Samantha's Third Circle and wore a Red Jewel. He would know how to handle the intruders. Janet's alarm was palpable, and John assured her he wasn't in the house anymore. He added that he was taking Elizabeth away and would come back and explain as soon as he could.

Elizabeth was sitting on the ground. She was wearing one of John's shirts and her heavy trousers, leaning back against the rock with her eyes closed. He could sense that her emotional control was slightly shaken but it was more due to tiredness than anything else. He wished he could offer her comfort, put his arm around her and hold her, even for a minute, but they were running short on time. And they hadn't had a chance to speak to one another about last night yet. He didn't know if Elizabeth understood what having her in his bed had meant to him, or how badly he wished to be able to make love to her properly, without fear of harming her dogging him.

He had no way of knowing if she understood that moment of total surrender on his part, or if she could accept the results.

Right now, though, it would all have to wait.

John knelt down beside her. "Lady?" She flinched at the formality of the address, but she met his eyes evenly. John couldn't restrain himself from taking hold of her hand. "Will you be ready to make the Offering tonight?"

He felt Rodney's worry jump another notch. Elizabeth nodded to John. "But the altar won't be safe, soon, will it? Once they break into the house and realize we're not in there, they'll start hunting for us."

"Maybe sooner than that," Rodney put in tightly. "A half a dozen more males just appeared on the landing web. Light jewels," he added when John looked up. "But they won't be the last."

John stood up, pulling Elizabeth to her feet. "Then we should go. Someplace where you can make the Offering in peace." Relative peace, anyway.

Elizabeth looked baffled. "Where?"

"The last place they'll think to look for you." He drew in a deep breath. "Atlantis."

***

The Priestess at the Dark Altar in Atlantis looked rather stunned when Elizabeth appeared as the sun was setting, but she asked no questions and prepared everything quickly. After one parting glance at both John and Rodney, Elizabeth entered the building and the doors closed behind her. No one could disturb her until sunrise while she made the Offering to the Darkness.

John sat wearily on the steps outside the vine-covered building that housed the altar. Since he had arrived here, something was nagging at the back of his mind, but he couldn't pin the thought down. He thought it was connected to that strange feeling he'd had the first night he'd gone into Atlantis to find Elizabeth. But there was no feeling of danger, so he ignored it for the moment, since there were more urgent matters to worry about.

The Priestess was puttering around in her rooms, and Rodney was asleep while John took the first watch. The Warlord had been awake the entire previous night while John was with Elizabeth, and it had been a strenuous day for them all.

Knowing the red shield around the farmhouse would fail once he was out of range, John had decided to use that to their advantage. He had reached out and dropped the shield a moment before he pulled Rodney and Elizabeth to the Red Wind. He didn't attempt to hide their path at first, moving them away from the farm and farther into Cheyenne Territory.

Then he dropped them to the Gray Wind and reversed direction. The men pursuing them would have no way of knowing where they were headed.

The journey to Atlantis took longer than John remembered, though that first time he had been in the throes of his own rage. They arrived at the landing web near the altar at dusk. Elizabeth and Rodney worked out some plan between themselves, and then Elizabeth went into the sanctuary.

There was nothing to do now but wait.

The hours ticked past, and the moon rose over the tree tops. John was just thinking it was time to wake Rodney up and rest himself when something teased at his senses. He looked around the clearing sharply, but saw nothing.

Wait, out of the corner of his eye-

He turned but nothing was there. Nothing he could see, at least. He reached out with the Gray and swallowed hard.

The sight shield dropped and Evan Lorne was standing directly in front of him. He looked tired, thinner, but his eyes were focused tightly on John. The other Warlord Prince held his weapon at the ready, but not actually pointed at him. John decided to take that as a positive sign.

Lorne's eyes flickered from Sheppard to the sanctuary, one eyebrow raised in question. John nodded.

There was a long moment of tense silence. John belatedly remembered that Rodney had said Elizabeth's mother had told all of them that her Virgin Night had to precede the Offering. John licked his lips, well aware that he was extremely tired and his reflexes might not be a match in a direct physical confrontation with the other man.

Rodney snorted and both of them turned. The Warlord was rubbing his neck awkwardly, looking at them. "About time you got here," Rodney muttered at Lorne.

Whether it was Rodney's comment or something else, Lorne moved away from his confrontation with John and settled himself on the step near Rodney.

"Where's Carson?" Rodney asked through a yawn.

Lorne stiffened slightly, but he answered. "On an errand."

John could feel them communicating on psychic threads, but he just folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

 

***

*Sheppard.*

John was starting to hate being awoken like that. This time it was Lorne's voice in his head, wary in a way that made John's hackles rise. He opened his eyes to see Lorne and Rodney standing and staring hard into the forest surrounding the altar.

John stood up, calling in his weapons and sweeping the area with the Gray. The sky was beginning to lighten, but a quick glance showed the sanctuary doors were still closed. Elizabeth hadn't emerged yet. It could take time, he knew, to adjust to the weight of the darker Jewels, but they didn't seem to have time to spare.

A company of men were in the woods, approaching the altar almost in formation. There were some Warlords mixed in with the regular blood males. None of them wore a dark Jewel, but a Red sight shield was wrapped around them which none of those men could have generated. John communicated this to Lorne and Rodney, since neither of them would have been able to sense the shield at that depth.

Which meant their adversaries perhaps still didn't know that they were facing a darker-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

One of the men in the front stepped forward, the sight shield disappearing. "Prince Lorne!" he bellowed. "I know you're there."

John realized the other two must have put a sight shield around the three of them before he woke up. Lorne glanced at Rodney and John. He nodded once. John put a Gray protective shield around Lorne, who looked slightly surprised. Then he stepped forward. "Yes?" he said with the deceptive softness of a male whose temper was about to snap.

The other man either didn't know or didn't think Lorne was a real danger to him with a full company at his own back. He stared at Lorne through beady eyes. "You are charged with assaulting a young lady from one of the aristo families in Atlantis. The Council has given orders for your arrest."

Cold anger swept through Lorne, but he held his ground and his temper. "When exactly did this alleged assault take place?" He got no answer. "I've been out of Atlantis for almost two months, and if this assault had occurred before I left, I'm surprised the council allowed me to leave at all," he continued almost blandly. John knew he was stalling for time. Until Elizabeth came out of the sanctuary of her own volition, none of them dared to go in and get her and risk interrupting the Offering.

"I can't give you the specifics, Prince," the Warlord said, starting to sound exasperated.

"But under our laws, I have the right to hear the charges before I surrender myself," Lorne replied, still cool and steady.

"I don't know the details, only that we've been charged to bring you to the Council."

Lorne went ice cold in a heartbeat and John couldn't contain a malevolent smirk of his own. "Who is 'we' Warlord?"

The man went pale, lips curling in a snarl at his own mistake. Five more men stepped reluctantly out from the Red shield.

Lorne studied his blade with affected nonchalance. "I'm afraid, gentlemen, we're not going to get anywhere until you start being honest with me. There are at least two dozen more men standing behind you."

The Warlord gaped. The Red Shield should have meant Lorne couldn't sense the others. Reluctantly, the Red Shield faded and revealed the 20 or so men standing in the clearing. Beyond them in the woods, John realized was something else. That faint flicker on the edges of his line of vision...

Rodney's mind touched his in some fashion and John blinked. A good dozen more people were approaching through the trees, all of them concealed by that rare sight shield that was protecting John and Rodney. They formed a loose ring around the attacking force. There was a Red-Jeweled Warlord, taller than John by a head, with wild hair and a savage expression, and John could feel that at least two of the women were Queens wearing dark jewels. The others ranged around either side, including, John realized, Carson Beckett.

On an errand, Lorne had said. Beckett had been rounding up their reinforcements, which was why Lorne had been stalling so long and why he had maneuvered the attackers into revealing themselves.

Lorne focused on the men in the clearing. He raised an eyebrow. "All this just for me? I think I'm flattered."

The leader apparently decided to abandon the pretense of politeness as he unsheathed his blade. "Not just for you, Prince. For you and your whoring little Queen-"

He got no further. An arrow pierced his throat, stopping the words and leaving the man gurgling out his last breath.

The soldiers whirled, but they couldn't see the dark-skinned woman who had already nocked another arrow on her bow.

Lorne pointed to the fallen Warlord with his weapon. He raised his voice. "This is your one chance. Turn back now, or that is your fate."

The men paused for a moment, but an angry grumbling rose and John raised his own weapon. He could sense Lorne's deadly fury and Rodney's determination, which was just barely covering his terror. He could sense the intention of the men in the clearing, all of them focused on one thing: killing Lorne, and then killing Elizabeth.

Lorne brought his weapon down, slashing the air, and a volley of arrows shot out from the shield in the trees and cut into the men. John poured all his power into his own shield and he and Lorne charged into the fray, Rodney just behind them.

The sight shield fractured as soon as the battle was joined and the Queen's First Circle engaged directly with the enemy. John could tell that several of them had little experience with actual combat, except for the tall Warlord who was sweeping through clusters of weaker men with a blood thirst that spoke of long practice on the killing field, and the Red-Jeweled witch – Queen, John registered silently – who had shot the arrow. Their adversaries were battle-hardened and they resisted. But the men were significantly out powered by the Jewel strength that surrounded them.

Beyond the clearing, though...

In the back of the group, John sensed two darker Jewels, one Sapphire, and the other Red.

Cold rage flooded his mind.

Kolya.

John hadn't been aware of sending the thought but he felt Lorne spiral towards the killing edge immediately. He didn't know whether this was just Lorne's hatred of the man or if Rodney had shared what they had learned of the attack, but it hardly mattered. Sapphire against Red, Kolya would win.

*He's mine* John snarled on a psychic thread.

Lorne didn't turn from the battle but he growled back a no.

John didn't have much time and reasoning with a fellow Prince on the killing edge wasn't an easy task, but he tried. *Take Lucius. He was the one who shielded the house when she was taken.* He felt Lorne hesitate a hair. *Besides, she'll never forgive you if you end up demon dead today.*

A flicker of dark amusement and then Lorne was charging through the chaos, hacking through Kolya's men as he went. John moved slightly to the left, progressing in parallel across the field.

Lorne bellowed, breaking through the last knot of men and John had a fleeting vision of a large, lumbering male stumbling backwards in a panic from the other Warlord Prince's assault. John hardly noticed. In front of him was a tall man with graying hair and a pock-marked face. The dead eyes focused on John, staring, assessing, and then hardening with a chilling hatred. John knew Kolya had fit together the puzzle of how Elizabeth had escaped him for all this time, but he didn't hesitate.

They slammed into each other, the full power of jewels and weapons clashing with a display of noise and light that made his ears ring.

John had the satisfaction of seeing Kolya stagger back, but he kept his feet. John prowled to his left, testing the shield Kolya had around himself, watching his opponent closely. Kolya lunged, and John blocked the attack. He managed to slip sideways and strike a blow across Kolya's exposed side, but the Red shield absorbed most of the power.

Kolya snarled, going for him again. John fought back, pouring power from the Gray Jewel into every move. He was younger and stronger, but Kolya was clearly familiar with combat. They clashed again and again and John became dimly aware that he could sense the end of the reservoir of Gray power. He'd never been able to find those limits before, and he realized he might very well burn himself out in this fight.

He wiped blood from under his nose carelessly. If that was his fate, so be it. But he would take Kolya with him, if he had to use every last bit of strength he possessed.

Again and again they struck out at one another. Each blow drained them both, and the morning turned colder as the two men unleashed their full fury. John plunged himself into the depths of his inner web, gathering every ounce of power within him and positioned himself, waiting. When the Gray power crested, he struck hard and without mercy

Kolya stumbled and the shield around the older man shattered along with John's blade. As Kolya toppled to the ground, John felt the Gray power within him fail. He still had the strength of his birthright Green jewel, but the disorientation threw him onto his knees.

It took a moment for Kolya to realize what had just happened. When he did, his lips thinned in a smile that would have looked fitting on a corpse. He dragged himself to his feet, raising his blade, aiming for John's throat.

It was dark, darker than it was supposed to be in early morning. For a confused moment John thought it was the shadow of his own death, and his hand tightened on the small knife still in its sheath at his back. He was calculating the trajectory, seeking a way to dodge the killing blow and drive his knife through his enemy's heart and end the fight. Then he realized he could see his breath.

An icy wind blasted through the clearing, knocking those who still were on their feet to the ground. John ached as he hit the dirt again, dizzy and weak as barely-controlled, malevolent power rolled over the field. His skin throbbed with the cold, but the mind behind the power was familiar and her presence made his blood surge with savage joy through his exhausted body. He heard shouts and howls of pain that stopped abruptly and a deep, ominous silence fell and he managed to drag himself up to look towards the sanctuary.

Elizabeth blasted a clear path through the carnage that had resulted from her unleashing her full strength. She strode with deceptive calm straight towards him. Her eyes burned with rage, but it was the uncut Gray Jewel in her hand that drew John's attention. It was extremely rare for anyone to receive an uncut Jewel. John's own Gray Jewel had been cut and polished, clearly having had more than one owner. But Elizabeth's was uncut, and it glowed in the low light.

He could sense that her control over the Gray power was not yet stable, but there was no outward sign of it as she regarded Kolya. John craned his head, seeing that Lucius was a bloody mess, cowering at Lorne's feet. Behind Elizabeth, he watched as the various members of her First Circle shakily gathered themselves to stand behind her. No one else in the field remained alive.

Hatred seethed in her as she looked from Kolya to Lucius and back. But her voice was steel. "Prince Kolya, Prince Lucius, I know that you were behind the death of my mother as well as attacks on several other members of the Blood in this province." Her eyes flickered to Carson Beckett briefly. "You were behind my own kidnapping and attempted rape. For this, you are hereby banished from Atlantis."

Lorne and the tall Warlord both shot a protesting glance at Elizabeth. So did John. He wanted this man dead, wanted to know that his Queen would be safe. But Elizabeth ignored them, and the blood price was owed to her more than anyone else. John leashed his anger reluctantly. He didn't want his first act after Elizabeth made the Offering to be open defiance.

"You will leave immediately and take nothing with you. If you return, you will be executed."

It took a brave man to resist in the face of a Queen's rage. Or a fool.

"You can't do that!" Lucius whined. "You aren't the Queen of Atlantis! You have no court!"

His words were cut off when Lorne pressed his blade against the man's throat and growled. Blood trickled from the wound. The slightest twitch of Lorne's hand and Lucius would die. John half-expected Elizabeth to intervene, but she said nothing.

The dark-skinned Queen stepped forward, a Red Jewel glittering at her throat. "Province Queens are chosen by their Sisters to rule on the basis of strength and integrity. The district Queens of Atlantis are here," she nodded to the other women standing across from her, including a blonde woman who was supporting Carson. "As are our Sisters to stand witness for the rest. And we choose the Lady Elizabeth as the Queen of Atlantis." John didn't miss the way the Queen's hand caressed her bow almost lovingly. "Her will is law here. You would be wise to accept her decision before she changes her mind."

Throughout this, Elizabeth's eyes didn't move from Kolya. He didn't flinch, and didn't speak. He pushed himself to his feet and without meeting the eyes of anyone else on the field, began to walk away.

Lorne reluctantly allowed Lucius to scramble to his feet and follow. As the two figures retreated into the trees, the Warlord Prince glanced at his Queen again. "I'm surprised you let them live."

The large warrior stood behind her. "They'll be back, you know," he said softly, dangerously.

"Yes." Her eyes were cold, almost more gray than green. Elizabeth seemed to be seeing something beyond the bloody field and the morning mist. "There will be a time and place to call in the debt."

John shivered at the icy rage in her voice and he wasn't the only one. She was talking about a bloodletting, one that would remove the men and women who had been twisted by Kolya for good and cleanse the taint they had spread.

They'd only won a battle here today, not the war.

The dark mist that had swirled over the field as Elizabeth crossed it melted away into the bright sunshine of early morning after Kolya and Lucius were gone. John could feel the tension in all of them fading with it. He remembered that this nightmare had been going on for them for much longer than it had for him, and they were slow to accept that it had really ended.

Lorne grabbed John's arm and hauled him upright. There was blood on Lorne's chest, but he appeared otherwise unhurt. Most of the rest looked rather worse for wear. Rodney held his right arm tightly with his left hand. Blood seeped from under his shirt and he looked like he'd been hit in the face at least once. But John had never seen him look so relieved. His blue eyes were almost glowing with relief. "So, what now?"

Lorne sheathed his blade. "We chase any of the remaining Council members from Atlantis, cleanse the Hall and start rebuilding."

Elizabeth was embracing the other Queens. "And," she said to Rodney with a small smile. "I'm afraid the rest of the province will require a formal ceremony where I set up my court."

The enormous Warlord seized her in a hug that lifted Elizabeth off her feet. She let out a surprised squeak, and he set her down, grinning. "And the sooner you do that, the sooner we can start drinking heavily."

Everyone laughed and the others began organizing themselves, the healers looking after the wounded. John tried to step forward and immediately found his legs wobbling.

"Easy," Lorne said, catching John and steadying him with an arm at his waist.

Elizabeth was suddenly next to him, her hand touching his cheek and lifting his face. "John?" Her green eyes were full of concern that made his heart speed up.

He shook his head. "I'll heal."

She frowned. "You drained the Gray completely." Before he could speak or protest, she had slipped his arm over her shoulders. Lorne supported him on his other side, and John decided that just now he was too tired to do anything but let them lead him away.

 

*~*~*~*  
7

John was dreaming of his mother's face, framed by flowers, when something tugged at his mind and dragged him back to consciousness. He blinked, squinting out at the bright light. He was in an alcove outside of the altar in Atlantis where he'd been dozing for most of the morning, if the angle of the sunlight was an indication. Elizabeth and her friends had a great deal to do, and the new Queen of Atlantis had ordered John to rest.

She was standing not far from him now, talking with Lady Teyla Emmagan, the dark-skinned Queen of a village called Athos. John had been introduced to her and to Ronon Dex, the Warlord Prince of Sateda, just before he was shuffled off to his corner to sleep.

Perhaps the enforced nap was why he was thinking of his mother.

Elizabeth approached him, looking at him critically as he hauled himself to his feet. "You look a little better."

John rubbed his eyes. "Then I look better than I feel."

John saw her eyes glancing over him with something other than concern for his health at that. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink when she realized he'd caught her. She looked towards the sanctuary.

John turned towards the stone edifice as well. Now that the sun had been out, the vines that covered one side had bloomed into large white flowers that created a natural arch over the entrance. Elizabeth began speaking to him quietly, but for once, John didn't hear her. An image from his dream rose up in his mind and made him freeze.

"John?" Elizabeth's hand was warm on his arm.

"I've been here before," he muttered, stepping away, looking over the sanctuary with new eyes.

"What?"

He remembered now. The flowers, the sweep of the stone stairs leading to the entrance, and his mother and father beaming at him proudly. "I've been here before."

Elizabeth followed him. "Why would you have come here?"

"I had my Birthright Ceremony here," he told her quietly. "I made the Offering at the altar in Cheyenne, but I had my Birthright Ceremony here." The thing that had been nagging at his memory since the night he met Elizabeth finally crystallized in his head. "Because I was born here."

Elizabeth visibly startled. "In Atlantis?"

"No, _here_." He waved to the altar. "My mother was told by a friend of hers who was a Priestess that I needed to be born somewhere outside of Cheyenne territory. She and my father didn't understand why, but they came to Pegasus, to Atlantis, when she was near to delivering. They were here at the altar when she went into labor with me." Elizabeth was staring at him, her pretty face unnaturally pale. "Elizabeth, what is it?"

"John," she said haltingly. "I was born here, too."

He blinked. "What?"

"My mother had a vision right before I was born, even though it was dangerous for her to use Craft. She believed it was a warning about my safety, and she insisted on coming here for the delivery." Elizabeth's lips twitched. "My father always said it was the worst fit of stubbornness she ever displayed."

John drew closer to her, feeling as though every nerve in his body was electrified. "So we were both born here-"

"Exactly one year apart," she finished for him.

John reached for Elizabeth's hand without thinking about it. Their fingers interlaced in silence and he stared at their hands. The intersections of flesh and bone, of Jewel and caste, Queen and Warlord Prince; the knots in a tangled web that was stretched out over time and place.

He wondered if there was a literal web somewhere, one that had pulled them together through all of this. He wondered who the dreamer had been. And if the work of the web was completed yet or not.

He met Elizabeth's eyes and John could see the comprehension dawning in her as well. She drew a little closer to him, and opened her mouth as if to speak. But Rodney's voice sounded not far away, breaking the moment and she turned. John released her reluctantly.

"Elizabeth, we just heard from Ronon," Rodney said as he approached. "It seems the rest of the Council was warned and they've disappeared, except for Cowan."

Something in Rodney's voice held a warning. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "He's dead?"

"Yes. Ladon Radim killed him. He wants to speak to you when you have a moment."

Elizabeth digested that information, then drew in a deep breath. "First things first. I think it's high time the Queen of Atlantis reclaimed the Hall."

Rodney nodded. Elizabeth and Rodney started walking towards the landing web near the Sanctuary. Elizabeth shot John a look over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

He smiled and followed them.

 

***

The Great Hall of Atlantis was enormous, and seemed to John's eyes to be made of nothing but towers, each one reaching higher than the last. It was also not in good repair, judging from the dirt, cobwebs and evidence of damage he saw immediately. Five years of neglect, of not having a Queen, had begun to take their toll.

But he suspected the new province Queen was more than equal to the task of restoring the Hall to its former glory.

The first two days after the battle were chaos. The lesser Queens of the province and the powerful males made their way to the hall to seek out the new Queen, all of them wanting to consult on what was to be done about the Council members and their families and the damage they had wrought. Although John was not privy to most of the discussions, the lingering sense that another fight lay before Elizabeth remained with him.

He fully intended to be by her side when that day arrived, but now, two days after she had made the Offering, Elizabeth had still not asked for his service.

In fairness, he'd barely seen her. Most of his time was spent going through the Hall along with some of the other darker-Jeweled First Circle, cleansing the place and breaking concealment spells on some of the rooms. Not a corner of the Hall was to be left unexamined, for fear of nasty surprises left by the tainted men who had usurped the power they were never meant to hold.

John felt the intense curiosity of Elizabeth's First Circle as he worked alongside them. They were full of questions he could practically feel wanting to burst out. But Elizabeth had indicated her tacit acceptance of John and the rest of them followed her lead, at least for now. The males watched him, much as Rodney had done at first, wary but willing to follow their Queen's wishes. Ronon especially constantly seemed to be sizing John up. John wasn't eager to give Ronon a chance to test him in a sparring match. He was still refilling the reservoir of his Gray power and he wasn't stupid enough to go up against Ronon even on a practice field without every advantage he could get.

Underneath the curiosity of the women and the males' suspicion was a slight tinge of resentment. He could understand that. They had been serving Elizabeth for years, waiting for the day when she could claim the throne as their Queen, and after all their efforts it was a total stranger who had been so important to ensuring she reached her adult strength. That had to chafe.

And the Queen had yet to make a formal request of him for anything. Until she did, John avoided spending too much time with the others. He wanted solid ground under his feet first.

So he stood alone in the cloistered garden on the western side of the Hall, watching as the sunlight faded. He would need to return to Cheyenne soon and explain his absence to the Queen he actually served. Janet would probably have a multitude of questions as well.

But he couldn't leave yet. Not until he'd had a chance to speak to Elizabeth in private.

As if the thought had called her, he heard movement in trees the as the Queen stepped out of the shadows. "Prince," she said formally.

"Lady."

Her face was pale but there was a peacefulness there that he had not seen before. He could feel along the Gray a calm at the center of her being now that the immediate danger was past. Elizabeth was no longer the vulnerable girl he had first met. She was a Queen of the Blood, with all that entailed.

And he was in love with her.

She noticed his scrutiny. "What?" she asked warily.

"You look tired."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't start. I have enough people fussing over my health right now."

He grumbled lowly. "I haven't had the chance to fuss."

Her laughter made him smile, but he turned serious a moment later. "I'm going to have to return home soon. I owe a number of people explanations."

"I imagine you do." She looked down at her hands. "John," Elizabeth said softly, then paused and he could feel the emotion churning in her through the Gray. "I don't know how to thank you. For everything."

"You know you don't need to," he began.

She shook her head. "I do. I was a complete stranger. You owed me nothing and you risked a great deal for my sake, far beyond what mere duty would have required of you."

Something in her tone made him anxious. "Elizabeth," he said softly. "You know that I wasn't acting out of a sense of duty."

She grew somewhat uncomfortable. "The last few weeks haven't exactly been pleasant for you, I know that. I will always be grateful for what you've done for me..."

It was such a polite speech, proper and something that would fit speaking to a total stranger. John had been sure they were more to each other than that. Friends at the very least. Panic engulfed him. "Is this a dismissal, Lady?"

Elizabeth wouldn't meet his eyes. "You have a home in another territory, and a good place in a good court."

This couldn't be happening, John thought. Not after everything. He hadn't been expecting a welcome into her bed – hoping for it, but not expecting ¬– but a total and outright rejection was unthinkable. "I don't want it," he snapped, fear making him reckless. "My home is here. I want to serve you." Elizabeth stared at him in so much surprise that John's temper began to slip. "Don't give me that stunned look, Elizabeth. You can't be that foolish."

Goading a dark-Jeweled Queen wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. Along the Gray he felt Elizabeth's anger begin to kindle, focused on him. Thankfully it was the hot anger of temper, not cold rage. Her hands balled into fists. "Don't call me foolish, Prince. You can't possibly have expected me to understand your wishes after the way you've behaved these last weeks."

John couldn't believe this. After everything that had passed between them, how could she claim to not know what he wanted? "What are you talking about?"

She threw him an exasperated glare, and John felt the touch of her mind against his. Elizabeth's memories flashed before him, memories of him.

_*A young, handsome and volatile Warlord Prince, even more fickle than the breed usually was. He had appeared out of nowhere to save her, as if guided by some unseen power. In that moment she saw something familiar in him, something about his body, his eyes, that seemed to call to her on a level too deep for her to grasp. The same primal instinct within her had urged her to trust him, and she had yielded to it in spite of a number of reasons not to._

He brought her into his home and kept her safe and never violated Protocol, yet at the same time she never felt entirely easy with him. One moment he would be smiling at her, laughing openly. The next he would shut down, become cold and distant. There was no warning regarding these sudden shifts in mood, and no pattern she could discern. For every time she thought he was offering honest friendship there was a corresponding chill of distance that left her bewildered.

When she offered him some part of herself, he pushed her away but seemed to want to do the opposite.

When she tried to touch him, he recoiled, but he reached for her the next moment on his own.

Then she lost her head and kissed him.*

John remembered that kiss on their birthday. He remembered every time Elizabeth had gotten too close to him and he'd clamped down on his hunger, trying to protect her. Seeing how it had appeared to her, John couldn't blame her for being confused.

She recalled his explosion with the Priestess who told him he had to perform her Virgin Night. While he had been consumed with fear, Elizabeth had concluded that he not only didn't want her, he found her repulsive. And that night...

_*Protocol and service. The Night of Fire brew having its effect on a Warlord Prince. Nothing more.*_

Hell's fire. John scrubbed his face with his hand. Elizabeth had convinced herself his responses that night had been just from the aphrodisiac and his obligation to protect her. It was so far from the truth, he couldn't decide what he wanted to do more, laugh or scream.

She was looking at him, and under the irritation of her face he could sense pain. He'd hurt her. It didn't matter that he'd been trying to protect her. He had to fix this.

He reached back along the psychic thread and lowered the barriers in his mind. He let her in, willing her to understand what he had been doing and why. He let her feel the strength of his need to protect her, the almost-instantaneous connection he'd felt when he saw her face. He showed her the moment in the garden of his home, when he'd known that no matter what else happened, he wanted to serve this Queen who could accept him as he was.

*I chose you, Elizabeth. I think we were chosen for each other a long time ago.*

Elizabeth blinked, drawing in a deep breath. He could see the understanding in her eyes, and felt the warmth of it wash over him. But there was something else she needed to know. He couldn't hide anything from her, not right now.

She gasped as he let her in further. He showed her everything, all the desires he had been hiding from her for two months. He showed her the night in the gardens, just after her arrival, and the way his body had responded with fierce hunger to the simplest touch of her hand. He let her feel the savage need for contact the night of the Cheyenne ball when he'd so abruptly pushed her away. The heat that rose in him whenever they were alone, when she touched him even in the most innocent of ways. The wanting in his body when she kissed him that first time.

He could feel her recoil in embarrassment as she realized he'd read her own feelings and desires. His arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her from moving away from him. Elizabeth held on to his shoulder, steadying herself. Her eyes fluttered shut as the memories of the night in his bed rose up in his mind. Without words, he told her what that moment of surrender and release meant for him, how badly he wanted to share her bed again and make love to her without restraint or fear.

"John," she whispered, her own voice full of longing.

He cast of the last of his hesitation aside. She wasn't the endangered girl he had met two months ago. They were matched now, strength for strength. He'd been willing to die for her sake. He would fight for her if he had to.

Seduce her again, if that was what it took.

He showed her the fragments from his dreams, of the two of them entangled together, the stars shining around them. He let her see the fantasies he had conjured, the things he wanted to share with her now. The pleasures he could give her in bed, the need to protect her, the support she would need to stand through the coming days, silently he offered her everything he had, everything he was.

She opened her eyes and John searched them nervously. Then a tiny smile crossed her face.

Elizabeth cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. He held on to her, Elizabeth's acceptance flowing through him, followed by something else.

_He saw in his mind the two of them kissing, leaning against the counter in the kitchen at the farm, his body aligned completely with hers as his lips explored the soft skin of her throat._

Elizabeth stood with her back pressed against one of the trees in the grove. She was kissing him hungrily while John's hand slid beneath her trousers.

On a dark night, she slipped into his bedroom, lit only by the moon outside, and he lifted the blankets in a silent invitation.

John groaned against her mouth. Those images weren't his fantasies, although he certainly wouldn't have objected to any of them. They were Elizabeth's.

His body throbbed as he kissed her possessively. He felt her fingers rake through his hair as his acceptance of her interest flowed between them. His own hands slid up her back, clutching her to him tightly. There was no need for control or calculation any more, and he didn't bother hiding the hunger he felt as he held her close.

Then Elizabeth pulled away. For a moment they merely stared at one another, both of them breathing heavily. John abruptly recalled that they were out in the open, where anyone could wander by and see this. The situation in the court was still fragile enough that he suspected one of the other First Circle males would strike first and let Elizabeth explain later that she was all right with him mauling her in the garden like this.

He caught the flicker of amusement from her at the thought. She took his hand and led him inside. John followed obediently, sensing along the Gray her emotions, and her intentions. She followed a twisting path through the hallways unerringly until they entered the Queen's suite of rooms. The door shut behind them and Elizabeth Gray-locked the door and shielded the room.

John didn't pay attention. He was too busy kissing her again, pushing Elizabeth backwards towards the bed, and smiling. His body radiated a sexual heat that he finally, finally didn't have to suppress in her presence. Elizabeth's face flushed with desire as he unleashed the passionate side of his nature completely. They fell, side by side, onto the mattress, still kissing and touching each other through their clothes, until they just started vanishing the fabric rather than bothering with the task of undressing.

Fully naked, entangled in a pile of limbs on the bed, John let his hand drift down between her thighs. *No other male has established a claim on you?* he asked formally.

Elizabeth's eyes slipped shut as he caressed her, her body bucking into his touch. *No.*

John nudged her onto her back, careful not to alarm her. It would take time for the memories of the assault to fade completely, but he had plenty of ideas for how to occupy her mind with more pleasant things in the meantime. He didn't cover her body but instead shifted so that his shoulders were between her knees.

He shot her a wicked look. *Then consider this my formal establishment of a claim to my Lady's affections.*

Then he began to taste her. Elizabeth's fingers threaded through his hair as she moaned. Her mind reached out to his and their thoughts blended together. There was no more restraint between them now, just shared desire. John could feel his own arousal and need and at the same time feel every hitch in her breath, every response of her body to his touches. He used the mental link to drive her higher and higher before making her come again and again.

Finally she pushed him away, her Gray strength rolling him onto his back. She straddled his hips and he choked back a yell when she settled on top of him. Even though he was more than ready, he held himself back, determined to savor every second of this. Elizabeth rode him until he was gripping her body tightly, hopelessly lost in the feel of her, wanting to keep his eyes open to see the climax take her one more time, and unable to keep from closing them as the release broke him apart. He heard Elizabeth cry out as she felt his orgasm and her own mingling in their minds.

The night wore on but they didn't sleep much, their mutual hunger feeding one another every time they fell into a lull, until the sky was just beginning to lighten with dawn.

Elizabeth was cuddled up against him, drifting into sleep. John's whole body ached in a satisfied way and he knew he needed to rest as well. But he managed to press one more kiss to her bare shoulder.

"You know, I never actually got a formal request for service. Or an acknowledgment of my claim to you."

Her green eyes opened just enough for her to glare. Then she grinned at him in a way that made him extremely nervous.

***

A week later, John stepped out onto one of the balconies of the Hall. Elizabeth stood at the railing, her red dress turned gray by the moonlight. He was momentarily reluctant to intrude upon her solitude, but he felt the silent welcome offered and sidled up behind her.

He nuzzled her neck, feeling rather than seeing her eyes close as he teased her earlobe. He smiled against her skin. "Leaving the party so soon, Lady?" he murmured quietly as his arms slipped around her waist.

She chuckled. "I sincerely doubt any of them will notice my absence at this point."

John laughed with her. Ronon had been extremely accurate. The belated birthday party was roaring along with a truly awe-inspiring amount of alcohol, not to mention singing and dancing. Only John and Evan Lorne, the new Master of the Guard, had noticed the Queen slip from the room. John had stilled Evan with a hand on his shoulder and followed Elizabeth, leaving Lorne to enjoy a well-deserved rest, not to mention the attentions of more than one of the females in the First Circle.

He began to trail kisses down her neck. "True. Which means you can retire for the night soon." He reveled in the shiver that went through her when his lips brushed a sensitive spot on her neck.

"Soon," she whispered teasingly, turning around to kiss him with a hunger that belied her words.

He'd been gone for six days, returning to Cheyenne to resign from Lady Samantha's court and turn his parents' farm over to a new Warlord named Mitchell who had lately come into Samantha's service. Mitchell was only renting the farm. John had left instructions that it be given to Cassie Fraiser when she reached the appropriate age. He'd explained his strange, incredible tale to Lady Samantha and her advisors, and again to Janet, before taking his leave and promising to invite her and Cassie to Atlantis for a visit as soon as he could.

All of which meant he'd been away from Elizabeth's bed for what felt like an excruciatingly long time.

His fingers tangled in her hair as they kissed. He had delayed his departure from Atlantis by one day, so that he could witness the ceremony establishing her Court. He had watched as the First Circle, including Teyla and Ronon, accepted service to the Lady Elizabeth. He'd grinned at Carson Beckett, the Steward of the Court and Rodney, the First Escort of the new Queen of Atlantis.

Only one position in Elizabeth's court had not been filled that day. Protocol had required John return to Cheyenne first.

This afternoon, when he got back, Elizabeth had placed the Consort's ring on his finger herself.

John would have contented himself with simply serving in Elizabeth's court in any capacity, as long as she acknowledged him as her lover. A Warlord Prince's claim on any woman was exclusive, and even as a Queen who had the right to any pleasure she desired from any male of her Court, Elizabeth would have honored that. No other man would've been called to her bed but him. John knew it would have been more than just sex, but he hadn't needed any kind of formal acknowledgment of that, not yet.

But instead Elizabeth had chosen him as her Consort, the one person who had access to the Queen at almost any time, and the only man allowed into her bed every night whether he was called or not. The rest of the First Circle had been surprised. Elizabeth was very young to confine herself in that fashion, but John knew that she didn't want any other man in her bed or her heart but him.

The feeling was very much mutual. Although there were times when John couldn't quite believe that so much in his life had changed so quickly. He was a little surprised that the ring didn't feel like a burden. It felt, strangely, like something that had been missing and finally replaced.

"John," Elizabeth pulled away from his eager mouth. "What are you doing?" She glanced down to see that their feet were hovering several inches off the balcony.

He grinned. "Practicing."

He swooped in for another kiss but Elizabeth wasn't so easily distracted. "Practicing for what?" she asked, a little breathlessly.

He lifted them up a little higher, and trailed his lips over her neck again. *Someday,* he told her on a Gray thread, and then showed her the image in his mind of the two of them, making love in a field of stars.


End file.
